They like me, they really like me...

I am not one to mess with blubbering tearful reactions.  The last time I cried in response to something was when my brother passed away.  It was a time of relief and loss and hurt and....the adjectives could go on and on.  So, when I found myself delving into that silly emotional crevasse of my being, I was surprised and a little taken aback.  You see, I often deceive myself into thinking that rejection is just a part of life.  It is not painful and it really doesn't bother me.  I am used to the subtle approach as well as the flat out "We don't want you!" response. I generally shoot back with a "It's your lose" attitude.  

However, recently, I applied for a grant for a performance club I started at school. The grant would provide materials and supplies to be used with a wonderful bunch of children.  The response to the club, as you can read in my previous posts, was amazing if not extremely overwhelming.  As time passed (three weeks to be specific and a mere week before the reception for the grant winners) I embraced that fact that the grant must have been denied.  No problem.  I quickly searched the web and found Donorchoose.com and submitted yet another glorious plea for money.  

On Friday, a curious little letter arrived in my teacher box in the staff lounge.  It was from the Junior League of Nevada.  

"Oh, you poor people.  You have lost the opportunity to be involved with a lovely group of 157 budding actress, actors, and stagecrafters!" I lied to myself.  

Really, my heart was in the lower portion of my right leg, slowly beating to the song, "All by myself, don't wanna be All by myself."  

I very deliberately sat down in a chair in the lounge, silently told myself, "It's okay.  It really doesn't matter.  You will find another opportunity." 

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and carefully opened the small envelope.  

I began reading the rejection letter.

Dear Educator,

Thank you for your grant request.  We wish you success in your endeavor but we are unable.....

Wait, that is not what is says...

We would like to invite you to a reception in which you will be honored for your commitment to education and to receive your grant award....

Well, blow me over with a feather.  Are you kidding? Tear sprang from the dried, crusty portals of wherever tears come from.  I hadn't felt this much emotion in a decade (I know this because my divorce was final ten years and 1 day ago). 

It was cathartic.  It was mind blowing!  

"We got the grant, we got the grant!" I wanted to shout, running through the school, hugging all children (careful, swine flu!) and teachers: okay not all the teachers! But everyone was in class, teaching!  How rude!

I am still riding on the high of that message, that "We like you, we really like you" message.  It was bigger than just me, so my hopes were bigger than just me.  I am in it for the students so I think my previous disappointment was also wrapped up in the children.  Or else, maybe just maybe, if I look deep enough, I can admit that is is okay to cry at rejection.  Who knew I didn't have 2 inch thick skin like a rhinoceros? I am going to have to think about that one! It might just change my entire outlook and make it a bit more blurry.  You know, tears and all!

Reflection

"They forgot to tell us! or somebody stole the rule book!” I want to shout into the crowd.
How ironic! I sound like my students. Of course, nobody stole the book. It is truly doubtful that I was not told over and over again."You need to have a plan. What are you going to do with your life? Have you applied to a college or two? Have you thought about what you want to choose as a major?" Obviously, my listener was broke. My ears were working properly as far as I can remember. Now I find myself looking in the mirror and thinking about my past.Reflection is an evil monster. Sure, at first, it was lovely. Your 501s hug your firm little butt as you glance back checking your backside. Your hair is luxurious, bouncy and full of color. No need to cover the gray or the bulges. That is decades away, if ever!Well, hello decades away! You are not only on my front porch. You are in my house and lazily sprawled out on my couch eating Bonbons. Now the reflection contains gray hairs, wrinkles, and a future in the past covered in cellulite!
Whoa, don't misinterpret. Life is amazing. I am basking in the fullness of my gravity-based existence. But it was not part of my plan or should I say plan less plan. At least I am emboldened by the fact that I have not just floated along passively accepting my fate. I have reached out and changed my situation. I have hit the wall, bounced back and ran again with fortitude. Yes, I am bruised and a little more beat up than some, but I have never been broken. I am the big little engine that could. I just keep chugging along. In my younger days, someone told me that I was never satisfied:"When you get what you want, you throw it away." she accused.I have to disagree. Have you ever been in a situation where you got what you wanted and then found out that it was just a facade: an illusion? Is it wise to continue in the charade or to get the hell out before the option to get the hell out is gone?So, I guess reflection can be helpful and not necessarily painful. What will my reflection be in another forty years? Yes, I am stating right now that I will be lucid and have the capacity to be reflective in 40 years. Will my missteps in the first 40 years provide a solid foundation for the pursuits I have yet to embrace? I will have a plan this time: a vision. I do not have the luxury of skating by on my youthful ass or brilliant green eyes (not that I took full advantage of it at the time). My endeavors will depend on the depth of my knowledge and the lessons learned in the first 40 years.Happy trails!

Expect the Unexpected

Crazy is as crazy does....a little poetic license from Forrest Gump!  As I had previously noted on this blog, I started a performance club at my school.  The response was unbelievable: 157 students signed up.  More showed interest later but we had to say "no" due to the response.  I also had four other teachers offer (out of the goodness of their hearts) to help out.  How lucky am I? There was no way I could have possibly managed that many children by myself.  

Well, I had already planned to split the group into two: primary and intermediate.  Two of the teachers would help on Tuesday, the other two on Thursday of each week.  

On Monday, I received an email basically saying, "We are splitting from the intermediate group and having a performance in December. We have picked our own play.  We talk with you about the details later."  

Hmmm, was I just bumped from my own program?  Confused and surprised, I later did meet with the two splitters.  Now, normally, one would be upset about someone or ones coming in and hijacking their project.  Not me!  It is turning out even better than I had hoped or even dreamed!  You see, my original purpose and goal was to provide a club or activity for the students at my school.  It was never about me.  I wasn't looking for glory or an opportunity to put on a stress-filled performance with a bus load of children!  I do still have a little sanity! Now our students have a primary performance club and an intermediate performance club.  But wait! It gets even better.  The intermediate group has also had a bit of a split.  As luck would have it, the art teacher (one of the glorious volunteers) has created a stage crafting club for students in the performance club who want to participate but not necessarily perform.  That makes three clubs from the original one.  How exciting is that?  Who knew that all a person had to do was get the proverbial ball rolling and the altruistic, dramatic die-hards would literally pounce out of the wood work to get involved.  Isn't life a wonderful thing!  You just never know what will happen when you start your journey.  I am so glad I was able to part of such a funny, clever little adventure!  I will keep you updated.  This is only the third week.  Who knows what else could materialize!