Change

Classes cancelled today and forever. No notice. Closed. Out of money. Very sorry.
I am crushed.
My favorite exercise studio (sorry, do I sound like a cliche?) has just emailed announcing they are closing. Effectively immediately. 
I am bereft. Truly.
This place was a lifeline for me.  A great community, with great teachers. It had a profound impact on my life.
A million questions go through my mind, like what will I do now? Stop it, you're being selfish -  What will happen to all these great teachers?  Have they charged me for April yet? Stop it you're being selfish.  Wait, no not really. You earn a teacher's salary, this matters.
Now I will have to search for a new community, establish a new routine.  I have to find where these teachers are going. This must really suck for them, way more than for me. 
Speaking of teachers having to make new plans, our school is not closing, but downsizing. It has been overcrowded, and now with a new middle school opening next year, we will have a "reduction in force".
The plan is for everyone to still have a job, but you never know until the final enrollment numbers come in.
What I do know is change is coming. 

Comments

  1. CarolMarch 27, 2019 at 3:05 PM

    Such a bummer when you find a place that you like and feel comfortable and then they close. And then I was surprised with the news of a potentially even bigger change just down the road! Hope all goes well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Adrienne G.March 27, 2019 at 3:35 PM

    I can feel how important his community was to you. Maybe you'll be able to discover where your favorite instructors go and join them once more. My middle school is also overcrowded - our new middle school opens in 2021, so we have a few years to worry about what will happen.

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownMarch 28, 2019 at 5:55 PM

    Change was on my mind today, too. I hope you can find a new work out community soon. I can totally relate to the importance of the ritual of exercise.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To dye or not to dye

Image
My father was a distinguished salt and pepper by age 43, and a beautiful snowy white by 55. My first grey hairs began to appear during college, and all through my late twenties were scarce enough to simply be a badge of honor:  in number they could easily align with all my trials and tribulations. However, by my thirties it became another thing altogether. Now, I must face the unfortunate fact that, every three to four weeks, I relinquish way too much time to this vanity project. Growing out will be an ugly prospect. Cut it short - get it over with quickly. "Grey hair is sexy," my husband says. My hairdresser says, "Not now - you are too young." She gets nothing out of this by the way, I cannot afford to pay her to color, only cut. Would my students think of me as the "old" teacher? Do they already notice my grey roots?  Of course, they must. So am I living a lie, or just making a necessary accommodation for the ageism that exists? After much ...
Read more

Strong Head Winds

 A bright and beautiful late spring afternoon turns blustery as the sun begins its journey west.  Leaves swirl, dust flies into my eyes, hair and hat blow asunder. A chill permeates the warmth of the sun.  I lower my head and press on. Grading, cleaning, organizing, food shopping, bank, gas, veterinarian, check. Head down, stick with it. Write my responses, clean my mud tools for tomorrow, answer emails, straighten. Listen to my husband recount his day, offer support.  Head down; stick with it. Child home with broken phone = broken life.  Get it swapped with an old one, merge contacts, change passwords, jump through a million hoops.  Head down; stick with it. It's mid-March and the head winds are strong...
Read more

Only the beginning

Image
This is my last post of this wonderful challenge. I have deeply enjoyed writing everyday, and reading the writing of others. This experience has taught me the value of everyday practice, and of small but positive feedback - two great strategies I can bring with new authenticity into my teaching.   My first post was about my new pottery class - my empty-nester hobby that I used as a metaphor for this writing process.  The parallels work well: both take practice, practice, practice;both take patience; both reveal an art form that seems to have its own voice, independent of the artist - the clay and the word have their own power; both can bring beauty; both can bring disaster; and both painfully reveal the shortcomings of the artist.  My vain assumption was that by the end of the month my writing would have become markedly better and my pottery would have as well. On this last day however, I find that I have grown, but not as much as I had hoped.  I'm still ...
Read more