And for my fellow introverts, here’s an open letter to share with the extroverts in your life.
The Single Best Thing I’ve Ever Done For My Mental Health
Change is Never Easy, But it Can Be Easier
It’s not just seasons changing in these parts.
The school where I’ve worked for the past five years has become swollen. Overripe and bursting with more kids than the building was designed to hold. And so it’s being cleaved and the excess is being funneled into a new school, opening next fall.
My first reaction when confronted with the reality was that I wanted everything to remain the same.
Because change is hard.
And it’s so much easier to just keep on keeping on.
But that’s not always (or even often) a choice.
So when decision time came, I elected to transfer allegiance to the new school.
And between the additional meetings, the multitude of unknowns, the additional curriculum burdens and the physical sorting and packing, it has not always been easy.
But change never is.
Here are some strategies that I’m using now that help to make this change a little easier:
Accept Change As Inevitable
Even when things stay the course, the course changes, as do the people on it. Some change is obvious, the sudden endings and the hard right turns of life. And other change, most change, is more subtle and slow. The fraction of a millimeter added to a child’s height. The replacement of tall grasses with short trees that eventually grow to shade out the growth below.
When the abrupt changes occur, we often resist, digging our heels in and skidding through the turn as though we can alter reality through an act of sheer stubbornness.
We may as well push down on our children’s heads in an attempt to halt their growth.
Change is normal.
Change is unavoidable.
We may as well get used to it.
Frame Change As an Adventure
How exciting! You get to try something new!
Not feeling it yet? Keep practicing. Watch your words. Rather than speaking negatively about your situation, work to frame it as an adventure. An experience. Yes, there will be trials and tribulations. That’s part of what makes it more exhilarating. Aren’t you lucky to have this opportunity for excitement!
Part of the adventure mindset is to view setbacks as problems to be solved rather than roadblocks in your way. Be creative. Be flexible. And remember to have some fun along the way.
Control What You Can
We all feel better when we have the impression that we are in control of our lives. Unfortunately, life does not always agree. When you’re faced with unwanted change, it’s easy to fall into a victim mindset, taking the approach that all of this is happening to you and that there’s nothing you can do.
It’s true you cannot stop the change. But it’s also true that you’re not completely helpless either. In the midst of upheaval, control what you can, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential. Simply recognizing that you have choice and acting upon those choices will go a long way to alleviating the fear and frustration that accompanies change.
What If It Is Your Circus and They Are Your Monkeys?
Create a “Worth It Because…” List
If you have chosen this change, you probably already have some idea of how it may benefit you down the road. If this change was thrust upon you, you’re probably drawing a blank as to the potential positives of the unwanted life renovation.
So figure them out. Step outside yourself and brainstorm some of the current and future reasons that this change is/will be worth it. You don’t have to like or agree with the change to uncover some of the positives. Some of these positive side effects may not be automatic. So put in the effort to make them happen.
Piggyback On Your Change
You know that thing you’ve always intended to do but never quite got around to it? Now’s the time. You know that bucket list that has been collecting dust? Brush it off.
Change provides opportunities for more change. It’s harder to come up with excuses to avoid something new when new and different are everywhere you look. View this as a window of opportunity for you to bring to life some of the changes you have dreamt about.
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As for me, I am super excited about my upcoming change. It will push me. It will challenge me. Some days it will probably bring tears when overwhelm hits, but I’m confident that the effort will pay dividends. I’m thrilled to be part of building something new.
Drained
I’ve always known I was introvert. My “safe” space has always been a quiet nook with a book. I recharge through time in nature and carefully plan downtimes between social events.
I’ve always known I was an introvert.
But I’ve just now made a connection.
The beginning of the school year is hard on everyone – parents, students and teachers. But I’ve always seemed to find it more difficult than some. Yes, my feet are tired at the end of the long days and my voice cracks from overuse.
But I also inevitably feel drained for the duration of August.
Fragile and bit raw.
Now, sure, I’m not sleeping enough and overwork is a given at the beginning of the year.
But there’s more to it than that.
I have 120 new people that fill my days, filing into my room in groups of 30 every 54 minutes. I have dozens of new coworkers to get to know and hundreds of parents with whom to work. I have no moments of solitude once I enter the school, simply times of noisy and less noisy. In front of the class, I’m animated. Acting a role for the sake of connection and the lesson. In the halls, I act and interact.
I’m good at all of this – the teaching, the managing, the multi-tasking.
But it comes at an expense.
Because for any introvert, being social takes energy.
And navigating new social situations requires even more.
Looking around my classroom on Friday, I could see the effects of the sustained efforts on my students that seem to be of an introverted nature. Like me, they were drained from the energy required to be in an always-on environment. Like me, their nervous systems were on overload and were demanding some quiet and alone time.
I just made this connection between August and exhaustion yesterday while teaching. This morning, I tried (emphasis on tried) to explain it to my very extroverted husband. He just didn’t get it. He wants to be able to fix things and gets frustrated when it’s not an easy fix and, even worse, one he can’t understand.
Like always, I’ll adjust and learn to find the balance in an extroverted world. But for now, I’m just reminding myself that August doesn’t last forever and I will be recharged again soon.
But first, it’s time for some Motley Crue tonight! Hey, no one ever said that introverts can’t be headbangers:)
Baptism By Tears
September 12, 2001 was my first day in a classroom as a teacher.
I walked into that classroom still shocky and raw, my face puffy and eyes red from a sleepless night spent watching the news. My body protested its now-upward stance, wanting to re-establish the fetal curl that it had formed for the last day.
I walked into that classroom still unsure of the state of the country and even more unsure of my role with these students. I wanted someone to tell me it was going to be okay. I wanted someone to tell me what to do. But now I was the one who was supposed to the calming and the directing.
I walked into that classroom and saw dozens of faces, questioning and scared, mirroring my own. I may have been the teacher, but this was one lesson I didn’t know the answer to.
The pledge that morning broke out of its usual autopilot, each word felt as well as spoken. During the moment of silence that followed, more than one tear dripped from mournful eyes, falling silently onto the carpeted floor.
We gathered together that day, more than one class filling a room. It was as though we needed the support of numbers and feared the threat of isolation. Without prompting, the students arranged the chairs to form a messy circle. They understood that in order to get though this, they needed to be united.
As the morning progressed, the teachers pushed their own fears and sorrows aside in order to tend to those of the students. They told stories. They asked questions. We listened and we talked. One student had a parent that was still unaccounted for. Another had an uncle working the front lines. We may have been hundreds of miles away from ground zero, but we were only inches away from tragedy.
The boundaries of teacher and student blurred on that day. We were all reduced to the lowest common denominator of humanness. And nothing else mattered. It was a moment between.
Over the next few days, we re-asssumed the roles of teachers and students, the former safely tucking emotions away in order to be the stoic guide.
It was a strange introduction to teaching.
A baptism by tears.
Years later, I again entered a classroom with my face stained and puffy from lack of sleep and an excess of tears. But this was a personal tragedy, one that I did not share with the students. I tried to remain stoic and composed, but sometimes the pain broke through. And even though we never spoke of it, the students somehow knew. And they met my vulnerability with compassion and patience. They never questioned my absences or my laspes in attention. They may never know how much their kind words or unexpected hugs helped me through that year.
It was a reminder that we are all students as well as teachers.
That vulnerability can be embraced rather than attacked.
And that tears are a christening that we all understand.
Vantage Point
Let me state right up front that I am not a parent. Apart from living with an infant for a year, I have not resided with a child. I have never experienced the fear that grips when you lose sight of your child in a park. I have never felt the aching pull when you have to be at work and your child is ill. I have never felt the overwhelming joy when your child takes his first step or reads her first book.
But that’s not to say I’m ignorant of parenting. I’ve spent the past thirteen years teaching 13 and 14 year olds. It’s a pivotal point in their lives; this is when they are starting to apply the lessons they learned in childhood. They are beginning to separate from their parents and take their first tentative steps into the bigger world. And it’s an interesting vantage point.
There are aspects of parenting I will never understand or appreciate. I have the utmost respect for those who parent selflessly. It’s a difficult job.
And it’s one that I often see people approach as though they’re afraid they will be terminated.
But the thing about parenting is that, if you do it well, you will lose the job.
That’s the point.
The goal of parenting should not be to be the parent possible or even to create the best kids possible.
It’s to raise the best adults possible.
It’s a blend of accepting the realities of the moment (terrible twos anyone?) yet always keeping in mind the intended outcomes. It’s about being the parent that your child needs, not the parent you would prefer to be (or the parent your parent was).
Based on my observations on the thousands of teenagers that have crossed my path over the years, these are the most important lessons to give your children:
Perseverance
Let your child fail but don’t let them internalize failure. Let them see you struggle and let them see what you gain when you do. Teach them that everything worthwhile in life requires effort. Discourage the use of the words, “I can’t.” Encourage them. Celebrate success but also celebrate attempts. Especially repeated ones. Remind them of skills they now take for granted that took tenacity to develop. Teach them the difference between quitting and letting go. Give them love but make them earn respect. If you give them everything, they become like a lion in a zoo. Unable to hunt on their own.
Empathy
Expose your child to the larger world. Do not attempt to hide all suffering. Suffering is part of life. Teach your child to respect and honor it. Model empathy. Use stories in books and movies as an opportunity to have them express what a character is feeling. Give them an opportunity to care for another. Even if it’s just a fish.
Integrity
Be careful what you model; they will do as you do, not what you say. Reward honesty. Discuss implications of dishonesty, both personal and societal. When they call you out when your actions do not match your words (this WILL happen), admit it. And then fix it.
Responsibility
Teach them that their response is always a choice. Nobody can make them feel or act a certain way. Discuss consequences of choices and then let them happen. A consequence must be felt to be effective. Don’t intervene in every situation. There will come a time when you can’t and your child needs to learn how to fight for himself.
Humility
Teach them that if they think they know everything, they will learn nothing. “I don’t know” is a starting point, not a conclusion. Let them see you learn. Show that you are human. And fallible. And teach them that they are too.
Gratitude
Have them create gratitude lists, whether through bedtime prayers or in a journal. Highlight the positives. Teach them that whatever they nurture will grow and help them grow life’s flowers. Don’t just tell them they have it good; show them. Gratitude is a powerful tool; help them learn to wield it.
It’s easy to get caught up in the thousands of details that fill each day as a parent. But in the end, the lessons above are the ones that really matter. Teach those and you will put yourself out of a job. And this is one job you want to lose.
Because the severance package is pretty awesome.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 