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A Chink in the Armor: Morning Minutes, April 28, 2016



There is a terror in the night. A thing that will have our slumber. A thing that haunts us, seeks us, hunts us. And by the the time it finally finds us, it’s usually too late, and we’re in its grips, awake at 2:00 AM, awash in a sea without harbor, an abyss without bottom, a tempest without refuge.

Oh, it begins simply enough. Someone makes a comment at 9:00 AM. We respond. Time moves. People come. People go. We press rewind and replay. We analyze the scene. And the wind whispers. You will fail. It warns of a storm. But we move on, sure we misheard. But the storm is coming. And as the clouds collect, we seek the sun, sure it will clear, promising tomorrow, a new day. But the sun sets, hiding clouds that never fully cleared. And as darkness descends, a whisper on the wind. You will fail. But we ignore it, believing we can escape it as we fade from our day, finding peace in our sleep. But we are fooled. And it comes, screaming now, YOU WILL FAIL. And we are caught, held firmly in the death grip of doubt.

Though I thought I had carefully anticipated all the obstacles and challenges I might encounter in my journey, I forgot one, a dangerous foe, a dasher of dreams: self-doubt. Yesterday, he found me. And though challenges were faced and met successfully, as the day wore on, I reflected on my interactions and conversations around my plan, and I let it seep in; I began to doubt. And the wind whispered. Am I doing the right thing? Do I have the strength and skill to succeed? Am I crazy? Are they right? Will I fail? Finally, the whispers gave way to screams, forcing me out of bed at 2:00 AM, forcing me to fight or flee. I chose to fight…to write, in order to fend off and send away he who discovered the vulnerability in my armor. But as the sun now peeks, I stand firm, a vanquisher of a foe not unfamiliar, a foe who will no doubt return as the war is not won. But, today, the battle is mine. A battle won not alone, for my strength comes from those who follow, those I will not fail. Thank you, all, for your support. You helped get me through the night. It won’t be the last time I call on you for strength. When we make our dreams public, we make them real. And when things become real, they become scary. Thank goodness doubt, then, is only an illusion. I will not fail.

Happy Thursday. Sorry for the odd post this morning.

superman

 

 



6 Replies to “A Chink in the Armor: Morning Minutes, April 28, 2016”

  • I can identify with the struggle you expressed. Moments when you look the specter of failure in the face are uncomfortable, but I believe they’re valuable. The concept of failure is fascinating to me. You will fail. What does that even mean? It could mean that not all of the details of your plan will work like you imagined. You will tweak practices to adjust and adapt. You’ll learn and grow, helping students to learn and grow. Yes, you will fail, and the results will be better than your original plan. When passion, drive, and patience are involved, failure looks suspiciously like success in process. So, fail away! Others are watching and learning from your experiences, too.

    • Thank you, Melissa. The freedom to fail is sometimes all we need. No different for our kids. Freedom empowers. As ever, thank you for being here.

  • Syrie,
    You aren’t doing this alone, and you never will be. Take heart and smile because you are changing the world one word at a time. It can, and will be scary, but we will weather any storm that comes our way together.

  • Yes. Good. This is really good news. This is exactly the challenge you needed right now. Embrace it. You are not undertaking this lightly and nights like the miserable one you just faced down are a precious reminder of that. We ask our students to be uncomfortable every day — to be out of their depth, in over their heads, thinking new thoughts, stretching new muscles… That’s what learning is. You are learning, thinking, stretching beyond any range most teachers are willing to imagine. And it’s uncomfortable. But here’s the light waiting at this particular dawn: you are now, my friend, leading by example. Keep it up.

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