I went to Catholic schools from elementary through high school, so I essentially wore uniforms for twelve years. I then went through phases of "rebelling" in college by dyeing my hair bright colors and getting piercings and tattoos. I say "rebelling" because there really wasn't anything original about it; it's almost as if that's what I thought rebelling was, so I did it. My wardrobe varied a lot over the next ten years. I didn't have much money, so most of my decisions were based on what I already had or could afford - not much self-expression happening, there. I wore aprons and head coverings as I worked in the food service industry, a basic uniform as I toured schools, and jeans/t-shirt combinations in my first role as an early childhood teacher. It really wasn't until I had children of my own in the last few years that personal style has even been an area of interest for me. As much as I love my daughters and being their mother, it's as if there's a little part of me that sometimes whispers, "Hey, I'm still here, too!" The person who is slightly unconventional, fun-loving, and passionate is still there, despite the days filled with sippy cups and Winnie the Pooh. My clothing choices don't define those aspects of my character, of course. But when I feel like I'm losing myself in the day-to-day realities of being a mom (and teacher, for that matter), catching a glimpse of playful nail polish or funky jewelry helps snap me back to the reality that I'm still myself - just in slightly new shoes.
With the arrival of spring (finally!), I was itching to try something new with my hair. I'm generally an all-or-nothing girl when it comes to hairstyles. I've worn everything from pixie cuts to stripy pink highlights to long mullets. Hair always seemed to be one of the safer risks to take with my appearance. It grows back, right? And so I visited my favorite salon a few days ago, although I wasn't able to see my usual stylist. "I'm flexible," I told the person scheduling the appointment. As we looked in the mirror, consulting and sharing the requisite photos from Pinterest, the stylist's excitement was palpable. "Are you sure?" he asked continually. "This is kind of edgy. Are you, like, a really artsy person?" (that one made me laugh).
"I don't mind big changes," I told him. "I just don't like surprises." Nothing like sitting in a stylist's chair to bring out a little self-knowledge. Now, about six inches are gone and guess what?!
I don't love it.
And that's ok. I'll get used to it. It will grow.
I'm reminded of how often we need to take risks in the classroom. We can play it safe, stick to what we've always done, and not be disappointed. We can do the equivalent of teaching the half-inch trim. Taking risks in our teaching means we might fail. We might get the "edgy bob." And then what? There have been so many times that I've thought I'd had a major "aha" moment in the classroom. "This is it!" I'll tell myself, painstakingly arranging an intricate provocation. "This will be the break through!" Then, a child knocks it all off the table or puts the materials in their nose or smashes a peer's work, and it feels like it's all for naught.
It's not.
Because although the risk doesn't always pay off in the ways we anticipate, taking it means that we're open to possibility. It means trusting that the shining moment of connection will happen, sometime, in some way.
There's always tomorrow. There are opportunities in the unexpected. It will grow back.
With the arrival of spring (finally!), I was itching to try something new with my hair. I'm generally an all-or-nothing girl when it comes to hairstyles. I've worn everything from pixie cuts to stripy pink highlights to long mullets. Hair always seemed to be one of the safer risks to take with my appearance. It grows back, right? And so I visited my favorite salon a few days ago, although I wasn't able to see my usual stylist. "I'm flexible," I told the person scheduling the appointment. As we looked in the mirror, consulting and sharing the requisite photos from Pinterest, the stylist's excitement was palpable. "Are you sure?" he asked continually. "This is kind of edgy. Are you, like, a really artsy person?" (that one made me laugh).
"I don't mind big changes," I told him. "I just don't like surprises." Nothing like sitting in a stylist's chair to bring out a little self-knowledge. Now, about six inches are gone and guess what?!
I don't love it.
And that's ok. I'll get used to it. It will grow.
I'm reminded of how often we need to take risks in the classroom. We can play it safe, stick to what we've always done, and not be disappointed. We can do the equivalent of teaching the half-inch trim. Taking risks in our teaching means we might fail. We might get the "edgy bob." And then what? There have been so many times that I've thought I'd had a major "aha" moment in the classroom. "This is it!" I'll tell myself, painstakingly arranging an intricate provocation. "This will be the break through!" Then, a child knocks it all off the table or puts the materials in their nose or smashes a peer's work, and it feels like it's all for naught.
It's not.
Because although the risk doesn't always pay off in the ways we anticipate, taking it means that we're open to possibility. It means trusting that the shining moment of connection will happen, sometime, in some way.
There's always tomorrow. There are opportunities in the unexpected. It will grow back.
