Lately, I've become more withdrawn. At first it was because of my cold, and then it was because of a particular experience that made me realize that I was becoming too reliant on others. Regardless of the reason, though, now, in the evenings, I spend a lot more time alone in my room rather than in the company of the other teachers.
There's a certain danger in being alone too often: it gives you room to think uninterrupted, and makes you more aware of the isolation that was so jovially masked by the voices and laughter of your former companions. Last night, I realized I missed this illusion of comfort and belonging cast by the others, and so I went up to the Balcony Bar for a bowl of curry and a dose of team GB (Great Britain). They really are the best.
Time, like energy, can be neither created nor destroyed, so where has all the time normally spent socializing flown? My books have been at the receiving end of a lot of this spare time. I'm currently reading Obama's first book, “Dreams from My Father“, and it is quickly becoming a favorite. He is a lyrical writer, and his story, though remarkable (as in not your average growing up story), has flavors of the familiar. Not so much the particular experiences he had growing up, but the feelings and realizations that he describes in such a personal way makes it easy to relate to. You come out of the book feeling like that could have been your story.
I once heard or read that the reason why Obama is so popular is because he has a way of making each person see himself or herself in him, and this turns out to be true. During his college and early Chicago days, he was just as confused, his future just as uncertain; his sense of not belonging just as strong, or stronger even. There was no indication of something so impossibly grand as the US presidency in his future; only an idealistic desire to make a difference- to make a change- in a community. There are points in his life that makes you think that he could have turned out to be nothing more than your neighborhood shopkeeper, or a druggie even, or a company man, had he not had this one conversation or that one experience that made his life veer along a different, but equally uncertain, path. It's no lie: life is a series of chance occurrences. This is the other Uncertainty Principle.
The less random forces, though, that pushed and pulled his toward what would eventually be the 2008 US presidential campaign were his gift for articulation combined with his idealism, his searching nature, and his intense desire to feel like he belonged, to be able to define himself. The best thing about the book is that you come out of it with a certainty that all that talk about change and hope and unity that some pundits disregard as empty words actually comes from a place deep within his heart. They are not artificial political gimmicks. They are not themes created specially for the campaign. Rather, they are themes that defined his life and many of the decisions he made, starting from his youth. His story is encouraging: even in the most uncertain of times, don't abandon your youthful idealism, it says.
Besides my books, this more withdrawn Angie has also been of service to my job and my students. My work lately has become a huge focus of my life, and I spend a good deal of time thinking of how to explain this or that math concept to my 2nd graders more clearly, what methods are best for them whose native tongue is not English (and so they have trouble with word problems), how to get them to practice their multiplication tables. During the day, I've been using my break hours to hang out with my students and get them to practice their times tables, and after school, I've been sitting one-on-one with my slowest student to give her even more help. I'm becoming immersed in my work- why? There is no grand reason, no “children are our future” bullshit. Simply, I really really want them to do well on their upcoming exam, and I believe most of them have what it takes to do well. That is all.
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