One week ago, we met new EMP friends and kicked off our summer enrichment program.
One year ago, I acknowledged the Fourth of July in some minimal manner as I was the lone American of the bunch: Canadian roommate, French boss, Senegalese coworkers, Spanish buddy.
Two years ago, I celebrated with my sister and folks at a reunion of my dad’s side of the family.
Three years ago, Sarah, Erin, and I watched many communities’ fireworks from the top of the Glen’s parking garage, then tried to get some sleep before our (arduous) bike trip in Alaska.
In 2001, I observed the Fourth of July on the American ambassador to Austria’s lawn with my parents.
In 2000, I watched the fireworks explode over the monuments of Washington, D.C…
And during my youth, I always celebrated back in Glenview, enjoying family and junk food and cell phone-less meet-ups with friends, dusk and fireflies and Glo Sticks and lawn chairs, giggles and suspense and delicious freedom. The significance of civil liberties, I’m not sure that I wholly grasped. But sitting on a blanket with friends — some girls, some boys, no parents around — that felt like freedom. Walking around outside, in the dark — that felt like freedom. And maybe that’s the only way to grasp such an enormous concept, by taking it in with small bites, or interacting with a miniature version of the master (a fractal, as I learned in Miss Jay’s math class).
This week in class, it was like night and day from Monday to Monday. Our very first day had been bedlam — we were all getting used to our new space, new relationships, new names, new jobs. This first day was much smoother sailing. Only half of the children were new to program, we three teachers knew one another’s styles, and the veterans could model for the newbies’ benefit.
Personally, I wonder about the magnitude of my change from last year to this year. Can I similarly say it’s like night and day? How different is my person and my life now from how it had been then? Last week, I wallowed a bit when I looked back at my blog and realized that some of the issues I’d been struggling with then, I was still struggling with now. No change. Then I reframed, wondering if I had returned to the origin but was one level up, as I’d suggested in a recent post. Now I think that my person, my life are remarkably different — not least of all, because I’m cognizant of last year’s experiences. My heart has been through an odyssey. My body and mind have been exercised enormously. And I’m valiantly trying to make the most of the lessons I learned the hard way. No matter how similar past and present circumstances, I am different because I’ve lived through the past. And it is this enriched individual — me — who negotiates presently.
Next week, next year, I hope to engage in the breaking of patterns and upholding of rituals. There’s a difference. The wisdom that’s come with age has taught me that.