Look Up

A few years ago, a dear friend reminded me that when things seem rough, Look Up.  The view is usually entirely different when we consider our lives from a new perspective. Summer gives me that new perspective I need on life and my teaching. Usually at the end of the school year I am a little crabby (OK, well a lot crabby) and I enter my pessimistic phase.  I am usually ranting and raving to my hubby about having too many papers to grade; and he, usually while holding a cup of coffee in the morning, looks at me with that patient but placating, "OK Honey," smile.

I know better of course.

I shouldn't be ranting and raving about what I actually find exciting and lovely. I revel in reading those last papers my students turn in; it's when I get to see all that they have worked hard to learn. It's just that I feel so much pressure. Pressure to grade, pressure to finish early, pressure to tie up loose ends before summer. Pressure to be perfect as a teacher.

Summer reminds me to relax.

I was at the beach last week, and as I sat on the cliff above the surf, and looked up at the grand tree tops around me, I did see perfect.  It was in the imperfection of the tree tops, knitted together. It was in the imperfection beneath me too, with the tree roots knotted and weathered as they leaned over the cliff. It was in the imperfection of the beach, dotted with discards from the sea: logs, seaweed, some trash.  It was, of course, breathtaking. It reminded me that my problems that were so large just a couple of weeks ago as I finished up my school year are just so small.

Look up; what do you see?