Today I was told that I was a natural at teaching and I was doing an amazing job and I was doing everything right and STOP WORRYING. This was told to me by a highly respected professional in my field. He said that for my age, I was incredibly responsible and strong and mature. He said I should stop stressing out or I will break my key off in my ignition from anxiety. Then he patted me on the back and said “you’re doing great, pal.”
And texted me later to reaffirm everything he said.
It felt good. Real good. I was starting to doubt everything I am, as a teacher, and as a professional. I needed that talk.
"I’m never gonna leave this bed." I wish. Insomnia and a strong sense of nostalgia are a very dangerous combination. It’s so weird to text the same people who, a year ago, I was sitting next to on my living room floor doing a last minute lesson plan or laughing at some stupid YouTube video. They don’t answer now. They have their lives, and I have mine, and although it’s just like yesterday when you are together again, laughing, those times are few and far between now.
I have a house. I have a relationship that, for the first time ever, has more ups than downs. I have a wonderful job with some amazing people. It’s times like this that I just feel so alone. I miss college. I miss having no money and dining hall food and RApril and the elephants upstairs and Casey Hall common room and that damn dinosaur. I miss putting the couch on the porch on that beautiful day, waking up at 6am to go to work, having wine tastings and beer tastings and just plain alcohol. I miss the parties. I miss the chill nights of just hanging out. I miss the giant meetings and the little meetings and the meetings that I missed because at that point in time, a nap was far more important to my survival. I miss student teaching. I miss waking up on the first few days and eating together and making cute lunches and putting on makeup. I miss the rest of the days of stumbling out to the kitchen, throwing something at Caitlin on the way to wake her up, and then standing prepared with an inhaler as she had a panic attack over being late. Those days there were crackers and an apple for lunch, coffee on the go, and glasses to hide the dark circles.
I miss my Albany kids. My Schenectady kids. Even my Guilderland kids. I miss Venice and the gondola and falling asleep during ELA with Starbucks in hand. I miss “free” Starbucks. I miss convenient Starbucks. I miss Starbucks. I miss getting the mattress delivered to the mail room and chip carrying it across campus and Caitlin’s reaction when she walked in the room. I miss the 90 degree showers. I miss the quad, but only after a snowstorm or on an 80 degree day. I miss the days of lying on towels in bathing suits drinking alcohol and casually chatting with passing professors. I miss severe. Tward’s stories. Her encouragement. I miss the kids that made me choose the place I’m at now. I miss the long nights that turned into mornings as we chugged double shot espresso Starbucks drinks and watched the Casey hall boys come out to shower. I miss that damn mesmerizing game on the computer when we would take a break from our “work.” I miss my sideways Microsoft word, but only a little bit. I miss advisement days, aka freebie days. I miss yoga and meditation in the sanctuary, especially when I fell asleep in child’s pose and had to be waken up by the instructor. I miss tanning and falling asleep. I miss Ihle putting together half of our project for us. I miss my jean shorts and rain boots day. I miss Neil-but only the basement and the third floor facing the quad. I miss sitting with a group of other people who also didn’t know what to do or how to do it, and having that be ok. I miss feeling young. I miss having less responsibilities. I miss the flyover listening to bulletproof in Sandy. I miss the Siena boys and that one kid who hid under the table during beer pong. I miss my chance encounter with Mr. Sexy. I miss the parties of funneling and jager and twin beer pong and meeting new people and smelling like weed and puking and doing it all over again. I miss not caring about eating healthy or buying food. I miss the mint chocolate ice cream from the dining hall and my buffalo chicken wrap with “a little ranch, a little mayo” from Anna. I miss the OLD dh. I miss semi formals and making fun of people and then coming back and finding a fun night when I least expected it. I miss being young and confused about love. I miss having a crush. I miss Halloween in Albany. I miss the garage. I miss ILoves and being interviewed and dp dough and chubbies. I miss the alumni hall crew. I miss freshmen year fire drills and taking Johnny’s psych test and chugging a gallon of orange juice. I miss taking 3 trains home and that time I threw 6 bags on the streets of new york and then scooped them all up like a pack mule to make my train that left in 4 minutes. I miss running from Penn Station to Grand Central in 12 minutes flat. I miss new years on the island. I miss cute romances with the wrong people. I miss mounds of free tshirts from corny events. I miss pictures. I miss fall classic and kayaking and the beautiful lake. I miss seeing my grandparents every Sunday. I miss group projects I hated. I miss Spanish with a bunch of idiots and bsing my way through absolutely every reading and the book we bought in English and blog posts posted at 11:59pm. I miss that A-. I miss methods professors dressing up like animals to truly inspire us. I miss Enrique’s Journey. I miss the Mac lab and iMovie. I miss move in day senior year when we were hungover as shit/possibly still drunk. I miss walking around and feeling completely safe at 2am. I miss having to jump into bed. And, at the other extreme, fall on the floor into bed. I miss one-armed Matt, the masturbator, and the baby mama drama. I miss Najir and the way he was so at peace sitting on my lap. I miss having that kind of innocent patience and lack of stress. I miss the blank stares of any person in Dr. Burns’ class at any given moment. I miss accepted students day…hungover. I miss the air mattress and my “desk” in Riley. I miss the video we recorded of how to properly break into the building. I miss taking over the fridge, the washer exploding, the sink filling with black shit, and the thieves stealing our food. I miss the 3rd floor of bru and my nice quiet room. I miss the innocence of this relationship. I miss being so in awe with him. I miss skipping the last day of student teaching for abbotts. I miss running up to bursar to grab that refund check hot off the press. I miss the old std-ridden SEB couch and the tv with half a screen. I miss my few short months of having a lax team. I miss opening my first pair of uggs in marlett’s class. I miss his quote book, tward’s quote book, that beautiful photo, and graduation planning with the CEP kids. I miss my organized desk and my desk calendar and hiding a microwave and coming into the room and seeing Caitlin Ann-Frank style, sobbing in the closet with some chips. I miss bugles and Jews. I miss the Nolan household and watching the honeymooners with patbob, hungover and dying. I miss the Brian phone calls and the Ian phone calls and phone calls in general. I miss Skype. I miss my windowsill. I miss riding home with the giant frog on the CDTA. I miss walks of shame. I miss cheap college bars. I miss art history with Shaner. I miss running up the steps of Lally and tripping every time and dreading having a class in the basement of Albertus and slowly giving up on ever getting to class on time because the Starbucks line was too long and people only use one door. I miss arriving back from CT and dozing for an hour before student teaching. I miss naps. I miss judge judy every day. I miss 511 Hamilton jungle juice before it got busted. I miss movies. I miss Cindy. I miss classes and expectations and strose Internet and the resident homeless guy. I miss St Joes and the Student Solution Center. I miss that haunted house and “who wants to play with me?” in the creepy voice. I miss laughing. I miss friends. I miss constantly having people around. I miss so much. I hate this.