When I got hired on, there were several gals who were young, single, and ripe for marriage (and naturally not an eligible male teacher was to be seen!). It was an extremely fun working environment. Whenever a new job posting would come up, I'd run into the principal's office and strongly suggest that they hire a sexy, smart, fun, musical, and generally amazing guy. I thought they should make all applications come with photo identification (yes, I have the makings of administration written all over me). However, deep down I didn't want them to hire some amazing man. I didn't want us to all fall in love with him and begin to fight and get catty and be generally ridiculous (as women are sometimes prone to doing over such things).
A few years went by. The girls got together for movie nights, sushi outings, Oscar parties, breakfasts at Ricky's, long jogs, wine tours, and marking parties. We became used to jokes by our students about us being spinsters forevermore (and, truthfully, a stab of fear would go through my heart each time). We also got used to being set up with nice young men by our students' well-meaning parents (happened to me TWICE).
The name tags on our doors remained the same, but we were content because "at least we had each other." We recognized the unique nature of this stage in our lives when we could all be at the same place, in the same place. Inevitably, things were bound to change; we decided to suck the marrow out of each moment we had together. (I'm really not meaning for this to sound so cheesily cliche -- I'm just a cheese-ball by nature.)
Then the wind shifted -- a strong wind. Last year began a serious landslide of romance. Out of literally nowhere came an onslaught of Godly, solid men! And they were attractive! Suddenly we were spending our week nights and weekends differently: some of us hopped on boats, or planes, or the Coquihalla; some of us had new friends to get to know; some of us had new family outings to attend. It was glorious and exciting, busy and nutty, but part of me was saddened.
I missed my girls. Sharing a quick update in the photocopier room, or in the hallway, or at lunch, or after school, or in the parking lot, just didn't seem the same. There just isn't room anymore, it seems, for all that we used to do together. We are all extremely excited for this new chapter in our lives (don't get me wrong), but there is still something to be said for singledom.
I look back now on all the years of opportunities I've had, friends I've made, and lives I've touched, and realize that a lot of that was possible because I was single. Man, if only I'd looked more carefully -- more deliberately -- in that place while I was in it. The grass was rich, and strong, and cushioning, and just different from the grass now between my toes.
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2 comments:
When I was living in Africa as an MK we had yearly retreats where all the missionaries from southern Africa would meet at one place.
I remember in my early teen years, suddenly there was a shift and we were all trying to catch the eye of a "potential significant other". (Imagine camp, but where you're in your own private oasis of Canadiana, and where the "missionary kid" pressure is all-too temporarily off...)
It was a younger version of exactly what you have described: exciting and fun, but sad too because no longer could we be just innocent kids having fun. There were suddenly all sorts of new complicated hopes, fears, expectations, etc.
"You don't know what you got 'till it's gone." It's the truest line of that cheesy song.
yea. once again that was NOT my idea to set you up with my cousin. us students have also seen the wind shift and we are extremely happy for all of you but at the same time are a little sad that all our cool female teachers are going on their seperate ways. but then again we will be leaving to go our own seperate ways too.
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