Before, I left the house at sunup with a lunch bag on my wrist, a bagel wrapped in a paper napkin, and coffee in a travel mug. The book bag slung over my shoulder was filled with my laptop, student papers, and plans. Charts were readied at school. Home life was left to the weekends and breaks. My home desk was a place to store old plans and books to be read. The dining room table, living room, and bedroom were places that student papers and lesson plans seeped into.
Now, breakfast is consumed on a plate, My coffee cup has no lid. Lunch is in the fridge waiting for the 30 minute break when I walk from my office to the kitchen. My computer stays on my desk. Charged. Connected to the Elmo. Books surround me in my converted office space. All of my school world is in this 10 by 10 room. The empty tote bags hang on the door knob. My plan book sits beside me. Student papers and teaching charts are digital. At 8:40, twenty seven students beam in to my tiny space and we learn. This has been the now for nearly a year.
Now that my environment rarely changes, I have developed a deeper appreciation of my surroundings.
I’ve been waiting for what is now to change for some time. When I start to think about what will be, I stop myself and make a mental list of what I want to hold on to.
When what will be comes, I want to keep noticing the tops of the trees that show through the upper half of my office window. How the prayer plant opens up at first light and then closes as the living room darkens. The curve of a honey jar on the counter and the silly pleasure in ironed napkins.