Reminicing

So the clean up continues. The sorting away, the filing, the discovery of (literally) forgotten treasures tucked away in drawers and envelopes. I hate the fact that I can be such a pack rat, unwilling to let go of things either for the sake of memories, or in the hope that one day all these will find their purpose.

With so short a span of time left before I am rendered useless, I've had to make difficult decisions. What can (should) I let go of? What should I bring? The limited time has forced me to open up envelopes, assess books, and go through my belongings that I have so conveniently put away for another day.

That day has come. And I'm glad to say that for the larger part of this whole clean- up-and-sort-it campaign, I have been clinical and unmerciful. I've never been prouder of myself. I've discovered t that I can simplify my life, that I can let go and move on.

Today, I found myself opening up a Sulu yearbook. I looked at the pictures of the events of a school that I found a home in, read the write ups of students who have moved on, and looked at the faces of the people who have shared my laughter and tears for a good 8 years. And I found myself rather sad. In the midst of all my excitement for the addition soon to join our family, and the changes that come with moving to a foreign place, I remembered who I was.

Was.

I was a teacher. For thirteen years, I interacted with kids of different ages. I laughed with them, joked with them, reprimanded them, and inspired them when they needed to learn something other than what was written in my lesson plan. I watched them grow. I watched them become. And I watched them move on, until it was my turn to do the same.

For the last school year, I contented myself with being a full time mommy. Don't get me wrong... I totally enjoy having the time to be with the kiddies. I love being able to watch their antics, and having the time and space to breathe. But as I leafed through the pages of the Sulu, I realized I also miss being who I was. I miss the planning and the learning. I miss the thrill of entering a classroom and the excitement as I watch the kids discover, and make sense of, their world. I miss the people, the camaraderie, the intellectual discussions. I miss being part of something other than my family.

I guess I haven't totally moved on.