I was going to write a little craft-related piece in July, but I got busy and it just wasn’t what I wanted to write. I like writing personal thoughts more, I guess—at least right now.
I’ve been sitting on some news that’s finally official and so I can finally talk about this experience of turning 26 and being at the precipice of change and a new stage of adulthood: I have a teaching job now (again), and I will also be pursuing grad school for certification and a Master’s in Teaching Students with Disabilities.
Because I live in America, a funny thing happened where I because I turned 26 in July, my parents' health insurance that I’ve been on dumped me at the end of July and my new job doesn’t start until September (because I now live in the part of the country that goes back to school after Labor Day), so I had to buy health insurance from the marketplace just for August. It was income-adjusted, but I think it’s gonna be a pain to cancel. Oh well, I have it, just in case. And I made it just under the wire to get a full-time job with benefits at this age where that is expected, apparently (unless you’re a freelancer/artist/multiple jobs worker, which the American healthcare system does not care). Shoutout to NJEA for negotiating for great benefits.
Back in Indiana, school is starting. On my Facebook page I see “Year 4 of Teaching!” selfies from friends I graduated college with. I see higher numbers from former colleagues. This year will be my Year 2, but with the caveat that I did not fully finish Year 1. I feel behind, and yet, I have grown.
I was freshly 23 when I started teaching, moving across Indiana to a small town where I got a nice apartment and proceeded to devote everything I had to teaching. This was how it was supposed to be. I was a straight A student my entire life. I struggled with some of student teaching, but I was offered the first job I interviewed for. So many teachers and friends loved me.
And then January 2021, the beginning of my second semester of teaching 7th graders in an already challenging COVID-era environment, I had some serious mental health struggles that did not clear up quickly—I wouldn’t know what was going on until August, months after I resigned at the beginning of April.
I have been trying to write about that since it happened, and maybe one day I will, but right now it is too sensitive and close. I have to prove that I can be a teacher, first. It isn’t fully in the past yet.
Looking at the number 26 still doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s the COVID effect, where everything after 2020 feels like it doesn’t count somehow, even though those are my formative adult years. Maybe it’s because it means I’m in the latter half of my 20s and I have only now just found proper stability in my life that was promised to me by my stellar schoolwork. I haven’t written nearly as much as I’d always wanted to.
But I’ve grown a lot in the past three years. I understand my mental health more and the ways I communicate best. I know I can’t make teaching my whole life. I feel like a proper adult now.
A little over a year ago, on my 25th birthday, I moved to New Jersey. This was perhaps a bigger change than this year, and there have been challenges, but I wouldn’t change my new life with
for anything. Over this time, I’ve healed. I’ve been able to work in a school again. I work out regularly and go rock climbing and swim in the ocean. I’ve traveled (Portsmouth, New Hampshire is our new favorite).So it’s summer now. I wrapped up summer school at my previous job last week, I have this week and next week mostly off, then New Teacher Orientation and vacation, then some babysitting. And then Labor Day weekend and…the first week of school! (I am thankful the first day is teacher-only.)
I always think I’m going to be super productive in the summer and get a lot of writing done. So far, this newsletter is the most writing I have done, though I have planned out and written a bit more of my novel. It’s weird, last time I had a break I got super into short fiction and poetry (I wrote about that time here), but this time? I just really want to finish this novel draft! (I have a little over 25k words so far.)
And yet, it’s hard to establish a proper routine for myself. I have this likely ADHD-related problem where if something is scheduled later in the day for me (which is most days), I have trouble committing to doing much before that time. I also notoriously have trouble prying myself away from remnants of dreams and getting up, waiting until it feels “right,” and then I get mad at myself that it is too late. As much as I want to treat writing as work, it doesn’t have the same boundaries as salaried/hourly jobs, for obvious reasons.
But also, I needed some rest.
And then I got my new teacher email and got sucked into a time hole of setting up accounts and exploring ideas for the new school year.
Instead of setting specific goals for myself, I’m going to focus on balance, I think. Consistent progress, not getting too obsessed with anything in particular. That is how I need to order my life.
And reading. Lots of reading.
Where does that leave this newsletter? I have a few larger essays I want to explore and polish up, mostly about music, but honestly my focus right now will be the novel and that process, as well as teaching. With my new job and grad school, I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to write—but I like having something like this once a month.
Until then,
Olivia