Having spent much of my working life being a teacher of some sort, I think in terms of the school calendar. This past Monday was back-to-school for most of my teacher friends. I walked the pup past the neighborhood elementary school and the parking lot was full, unlike the previous week when there had been just a few early bird teachers, likely getting their rooms ready. A teacher was heading to his car with a dolly in order to unload a desk, just as Watson and I were passing. I said something, "welcome back" I think, and then said to the air "I'm a teacher." And then I was stuck - stuck by the inaccuracy of that statement. I'm not now. Or am I?
I applied for teaching jobs in 3 local districts, but got caught up in the thick of my life and only followed through with one principal, who offered me an interview, but it was when we were away. So no job. I've signed up to substitute but needed to make an appointment with the state police to get my fingerprinting and background check done. So, no job. Not even subbing, yet. How do I define myself now? I'm a teacher, but without a job am I really? It's perplexing. We so often define ourselves by what we do: she's a lawyer, he's a doctor, she's in marketing, he sells cars. Even, she's a mom, he's a stay-at-home dad. What am I?
I'm a woman living with the man I love, trying to integrate all my things into his small place, getting to know his friends, being with him, but giving him space so I don't suffocate him. I'm walking the dog since we don't have a fenced yard, I'm trying to eat healthy, I'm cleaning, I joined the gym, but I'm still trying to figure out the rhythm of my day without a job. How do I manage the extra time that we all wish we had?
That's where this sense of free-floating comes in. It's as if I'm in a dream like the ones I had as a child: jumping up and finding myself over the crowd. Flying, floating, arms out, unable to land, then realizing that I could propel myself forward by gently fluttering my arms, extending my legs. As I'd lower closer to the tops of heads, I could lift myself with some gentle effort. And then, finally, when I chose, land gently, safely, gratefully, but with a strong urge to jump and float again.
Perhaps I need to embrace this free-float of mine. Be grateful for the time and opportunity to be with myself, to learn and grow and be my own student. I have this gift of time I've been given due to good luck, hard work, and alimony. I suppose I could say that I'm on sabbatical. Not that that's what I'd intended, but it sure sounds good.
So that's it.
Sabbatical [suh-bat-i-kuh l] noun 5. any extended period of leave from one's customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training, etc.
I'm not free floating, I'm on sabbatical.
