It’s been a long time since I headed back to school in the fall but I always dreaded it and I’m still not crazy about fall. School meant moving to town to stay with my grandma because we didn’t have a school in our district. Later, I boarded with a wonderful family and enjoyed having “almost siblings” but it never felt like I really had a home. I loved learning, but school meant having to wear shoes and my feet burned like fire for the first few weeks. School meant leaving all I loved, the ranch, my parents, dogs, and horses, the spicy smell of sunflowers in the meadow, and sunsets that were never very visible in town. I suppose I’m thinking about this because we have two grandkids off to college and one to her junior year in high school. New beginnings, and I hope they view them as opportunities. I regret that I did not; school for me always signified loss and letting go.
Too often, education is a gift we take for granted in America. Back when prom was something of a rite of passage rather than a chance to party, I was a junior class mom working in the school kitchen to serve the junior senior banquet. In those days, there was always an after-dinner speaker at the banquet, and this particular year it was the math teacher. I recall parts of his speech to this day, although former students probably don’t. He emphasized that teachers are offering a gift that should be appreciated because it’s preparation for success in life; that how students receive that gift, and what they do with it, will have a huge impact on their futures.
Not everyone gets to go to college, or graduate from high school. Those who do often fail to appreciate it, and I was among the ungrateful. I got away from college as soon as possible and it took me another thirty years to back up and take another run at it. My life became totally different when I let myself be challenged and began to challenge some of the ideas that were presented. Whether we choose college, trade school, or some other route to growth, that period of life is about learning to think for ourselves, examining our strengths and values, and beginning to build on those discoveries.
When I went to college the first time, I became somewhat grateful for the struggles I experienced leaving home at age six, because some of the girls in my dorm had never spent a night away from home and cried themselves to sleep for weeks on end. Being away from home is drifting without an anchor. We all need a home base, even when we aren’t there.
Twenty-odd years ago I was part of a group that often met for lunch. A woman who was in the process of moving complained about the mess and disruption. “I don’t even know where home is anymore,” she wailed. One fellow asked a simple question that put an end to her confusion. “Do you have a Teddy bear or something comforting that you sometimes sleep with?” She allowed that she did. “Well,” he said, “home is where Teddy sleeps.”
I still see that man occasionally, and I need to tell him how many times his statement has settled me when life seemed to be all upside down and full of apprehension. I know who Teddy is now. My husband and my dogs. Even as a kid, lost and homesick, I knew where Teddy was, and that no matter how far away he slept, I would always know where to find him.
Meet me here next week and meanwhile do your best. Somebody might like it.