Spreading My Wings...

"Your services as a teacher are no longer needed." Those were the words I read on the letter I held in my hand last summer. I became one of the thousands of Americans who lost their job in 2010 in the blink of an eye. Of course, I knew it was coming; I had been teaching at a private school that had been hanging on by various threads all three years I had taught there. Something had to give. That something turned out to be half of the teaching staff losing their jobs, myself included. 

I was devastated. I had worked so hard to get that degree, taking out loans upon loans to achieve it, knowing that, when graduation finally arrived, the job I landed would pay for those loans in no time at all. But who could foresee the economy tanking? Just like that, my dream of being "that teacher," the one whom students one day look back on and say, "If it hadn't been for her...," (you know, a real "Freedom Writers" kind of deal), was gone. I packed up my classroom, took down all the motivational posters, and boxed up my "Don't make me get my Flying Monkeys" sign and "Ashes of Obnoxious Teenagers" urn. Just like that, I was out in the cold, cruel world with a teaching degree and no job opportunities within a foreseeable driving distance.

A lot happened in the summer of 2010, and I will share it with you in digestible portions. But here is what I discovered as I scoured job listings, put in applications at every place of business I could think of, and made one on-line profile after another: Being "let go" gave me freedom. I at first looked at the situation and thought, "I'm doomed. We're done for. Debtor's prison, here we come." But it also gave me a new way of looking at the world. 

This blog is a result of my being let go. For years, I have written in journals, keeping records of my life and thoughts, (and I'll admit it: secretly thinking that one day when I'm dead, someone should find them and turn them into a movie; it's really good reading), and I've also tried my hand at writing fiction. I don't think I've ever finished one single solitary story, but I've started countless ones. I had always thought, "One day. One day I'll write that story that will sell a million copies. One day I'll be a published author." But if losing my job taught me anything, it was that nothing is certain in this life. Everyone told me I wouldn't be one of the ones they let go, but I was. And I had a breakthrough thought: Why wait? Waiting is procrastinating greatness. If I kept waiting for the "perfect time" to write something, chances were, I'd suddenly be 75 and never have started. So here we are: I'm not an official published author, and maybe I never will be, but I'd like to think I'm on my way to becoming one. No longer will I put off my writing. For better or worse, I'm in it for the long haul. 

I can sum up my ambition in the words of my favorite singer: "What's wrong with wanting more? If you can fly - then soar! With all there is - why settle for just a piece of sky?" ~Barbra Streisand, Yentl, 1983.