Day 2

The earth has turned a little bit more and suddenly it is November. It is the beginning of that steady slide toward the end of the year that is full of so very much.

I have committed to a massive writing project for November as well as some less massive real-life kinds of things. I've gone, in the last few weeks, from reveling as a lady of leisure - one who wanders malls with a latte in hand and photographs her boots midday for the pleasure of it - to a busier person who has to keep a calendar. This is a good change of events for me, and an intentional one, so never fear. There will be very little whining about it. Or whinging, if you prefer.

All of the above is a series of social disclaimers (detestable things, but sometimes useful) to say that I will be wholly unoriginal in this blog space this month. I will be playing the tuba on the gratitude bandwagon and posting about things I'm grateful for every day. I made a list of 75 things last year and you can read them here. I love Thanksgiving because it is about food and the giving of thanks and all that lovely stuff. It's nice for gratitude to have its own holiday (we will not speak here of the genocide of indigenous peoples or religious persecution, except to admire the large buckles on hats and shoes. Deal? It's about gratitude.) However, this thankfulness things should extend a wee bit further than one weekend in November, no? It's nice to have a holiday, but the giving of thanks should be daily. (Not, however, the watching of football. That can be relegated to one weekend a year.)

The whole point of this is to put my cranky pants away and don my pants that are woven from blessings and light and realize that I should wear them more often. Without further ado, I bring you

Day 2:
Today I am grateful for excellent public school teachers. They make very little money compared to the work that they do. They deal with unruly bureaucracy, unruly children, unruly parents, limited resources, excessive expectations, long days, and cramped classrooms. I have had two opportunities this week to see my children's teachers in action and I'm humbled by their skill, their patience, their insight, and their experience. I would throw large temper tantrums if I were stuck in a smelly room with 29 children every day.

We moved to a new school over the summer and so much was unknown. I want to write gushing love letters to my children's teachers. I want to bake them treats and hug them and weep openly in appreciation. I may do that. I know that there are vast inequities across schools, across states, across neighborhoods. There are so many things that are broken about public education; so many things that are frustrating, heartbreaking, infuriating. I know that in my little neighborhood school here in the corner of the country, tucked away in a valley surrounded by trees and hills and birds, we are blessed. We are richly and abundantly blessed, in spite of setbacks. I will not take this for granted. I will not focus on the broken system except to do what I can to help change it. I will not take these people for granted. These people who know the inequities and problems better than I do and choose to show up every day anyway and give their best to other people's children. These people are heroes and I am so humbly and thoroughly grateful for them.