Sundays are, for my #noobhusband, about jerseys and 10 am to 10 pm football. Since our meeting and my first year of teaching are one and the same, my adult life has consisted of Sundays filled with orange and black-clad David (just guess what his team is....hint: he's from Dayton, Ohio), seasonally-decorated bars, and the bright light of my laptop, reflecting lesson plans for the week (with gmail, facebook, teacherspayteachers, and pinterest tabs beckoning from behind). On this particular Sunday, I'm feeling nostalgic for The Avenue, a dive bar on Telegraph in North Oakland. David would wear his orange and black jersey, I'd be glued to my computer screen, plan book sprawled in front of me, beer (or occasionally milk), in hand. At Halloween there'd be creepy cobwebs and free food, beginning December 1st there'd be snowflakes, Santas, menorahs, and crockpots full of mac and/or nacho cheese.
Today, I have my snowman cozied-up beer, plan book sprawled, homework folders filled, and teacherspayteachers tab open, watching #noobhusband in his Warriors jersey (huh?) eating cheese and apples 20 feet away. Sunday is, for most teachers, yet another workday...and for me, it is quite the same. But Sundays have a certain charm, a certain coziness...a predictability that is rarely disturbed. Brunch on Sunday? No problem...still time for beer, teacherspayteachers, and scribbling all over my planbook. Birthday party at 6 pm? No problem, I'll have a mimosa while I plan and David looks on. Out of town/at airport/wedding/etc? David will use my fancy phone to watch Sundayticketorwhateveritscalledonaniphone/justwearhisBengalssocks and I'll fit my planbook in my purse. While Sundays often bring a little anxiety for the week, they also bring this routine and nostalgia...this has become my teacher's Sunday, if you will.
The other (non-teaching-related) thing on my mind this Sunday is missing my 10 year reunion. In part, it was a conscious decision. Until 3 or so weeks ago, it was a given. I wanted to go purely for the fear of regretting not going if I didn't. And guess what? I regret not going. Mostly what won over was this weird fear of reverting to a high school self-- not that high school self was bad, but high school self meant awkwardly hiding in the library at lunch because pretending to use the computer to fill out college applicatons was easier than trying to find a friend who didn't have lunch period off my senior year. High school self was charting Mario Kart victories against the "computer" in bar graphs. High school self was not returning phone calls for fear of saying the wrong thing on the phone. High school self was falling asleep in class, being nervous to say "here" when roll was called, wearing too-short cheerleading skirts on Fridays because we had to, calling my parents to be picked up at parties where alcohol was present (YEP, that really happened), and perhaps being part of things I wouldn't be a part of now (yes I do mean cheerleading...I regret nothing, but my current feminist self wishes I took up softball, too, and worried less about how high my ponytail was rather than how big my biceps were...although college cheerleading taught me through double days I could have both ;). High school self was being a "try hard kid"--but yet somehow not; lacking the voracious inquiry to ACTUALLY learn, all while still earning a too-high GPA, when I now cannot accurately tell you precisely what a derivative is, what the equation for force is, or who our 22nd President was.
And so, you see, I was afraid that being around anyone/thing from high school would remind me of what we all experienced to one degree or another in adolescence...that uneasy, self-conscious, inadequate feeling of BEING. And to feel unsure like that again...was seemingly not worth it. I remember, in high school, being so envious of the people who felt comfortable enough to strike up a conversation with a stranger, to joke with a member of the opposite sex, to even be physically comfortable enough with someone to lightly punch them on the shoulder or hug them randomly--not upon greeting or saying goodbye. And NOW-- I feel I am the same and yet opposite of who I was, still hyper-aware of the feelings and meanings of others, but with a certain-knowledge of who I am: a beer-and-family/friend-loving, Murakami-reading, Jeapordy-watching, milk-guzzling, Kindergarten-teaching, forgetful, key-losing, social-justice-seeking extrovert who enjoys making friends with taxi drivers and airplane neighbors, tasting new beers, hiking new hills, traveling to new places, and to revisit my 14-17 year old self felt uncomfortable...a less interesting, less knowledgeable, less ME me. But isn't that true of everyone? Silly noob.
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