The Pain of Change

“It’s got to hurt for change to take place.” … Jillian Michaels

I received Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred exercise DVD in the mail yesterday. I excitedly changed into workout clothes – I use that term loosely (shorts, t-shirt, and wool socks are my workout clothes), put the DVD in the player, laid down a blanket for a mat and grabbed a couple of jars of spaghetti sauce to use as weights. I was ready! That was the longest 20 minutes of my life. It should be a clue when the coach uses jumping jacks as a warm-up! I was dying as I tried desperately to keep up with the lunges and arm weights at the same time. The video goes through three circuits of cardio, weights, and ab exercises – three circuits in 20 minutes! After the second circuit, I couldn’t go on and turned my back to the TV as I started to walk toward (what else?) the kitchen. Just then, Jillian firmly calls out, “Don’t give up now! I know it’s hard. I know you’re hurting. It’s got to hurt for change to take place! Now is not the time to give up. Let’s finish strong!” It felt as if she were standing in my living room. I got back to work and finished the workout as strong as I could.

Those words came to me this morning as two of my students were led away to be suspended by the Dean because they skipped detention that I had assigned to them for laying their heads down in class. I have made it a class rule –

Do NOT put your head down in this class – not during SSR, not ever.

Head Down = Detention

Detention = Pick up Trash Outside

Still, the students put their heads down in class. So, punishment is rendered. I am frustrated. They are passively disrespectful and it will drive me crazy if I let it.

I hear Jillian’s words echoing in my mind, “It’s got to hurt for change to take place.” That applies to my students, but even more so to me.  This is painful for them – to have a teacher who has high expectations, to have a teacher who doesn’t give in and give up and just show movies while they sleep. It’s going to hurt, but they will change.

This is even more painful for me, I’m sure. I am changing. I can feel it. I hope it’s a good change.

The Cost of Running Water

On my way out of school this afternoon, I heard the secretary tell the administrator, “I just stopped some people who were coming inside and they told me it was okay because they were going to the showers?” The administrator replied, “It’s okay. If they have lice, they can use the showers.”

I let the front door of the school shut behind me as I walked down the metal steps into the 25 degree sunshine contemplating the consequences of my choices while taking a deep breath and coaching myself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, making a mental note to never use the school bathrooms again.

Shattered Dreams

10-10-10 – seems like a good day for reflection.


The words of a Gordon Lightfoot song come to mind, “Picking up the pieces of my sweet, shattered dream… I guess it must be wanderlust or trying to get free… Now, the thing that I call living is just being satisfied with knowing I got no one left to blame.”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to live in the wilds of Alaska. Away from civilization. Alone. Off the road system. It just seemed like the perfect life to me. A fairy tale of sorts.

Here I am. Yupik village. Off the road system. Away from civilization. I’ve never felt a greater feeling of being alone. It’s far from perfect.

I miss how Book Club feeds my nerdy side. I miss having random TV channels on for background noise. I miss the freedom that a car gives. I miss paging through cooking magazines, picking out a recipe and going to the store for that one special ingredient. I miss long hikes when I worry that I may go too far before turning around and not get back to my car before dark, or exhaustion, sets in. I miss going out for a drink with friends and laughing and dancing until we’re out of breath. I miss going for a long drive on Sunday afternoon and then stopping for a Peanut Butter Shake on the way home. I miss stopping by the winery to taste the latest they have to offer. I miss football games and theatre popcorn and KBay Mochas and coaching DDF. I miss sitting on my deck with a margarita while grilling my dinner and gazing at the snow-capped mountains and glaciers across the bay. I miss being friends with my kids’ parents. I miss my life.

I miss it like a lost love. I miss it and I’m scared that I’ll never get it back. I know that one can never truly go back to a place they were before. It will be different. I will be different. That saying, “God never gives you more than you can handle,” is a lie. People get more than they can handle every day. I feel like I may just break in half any day now.

How can a dream be so misguided? How could the target have been so off course? I have been shaken to the core. My dreams are shattered. Now what? How does someone, at 43, find a new dream? I’m scared to trust myself to dream again.