The last couple of months have been a whirlwind of activity–beginning with a serious career adjustment. I “hit the streets” in Midtown as a sales rep for a food distribution company, and the learning curve has been massive. Serious highs, and serious lows. I joined our local pool board just in time for the chaos of summer and started a boxing class at the gym around the corner. I signed up to teach “Julie’s Can and Jam” classes at a local co-op, where I’ll teach 21 and up classes on making homemade jam and the canning process. At the same co-op, I’m re-launching some new branding for my detergent line and attempting to improve my image and marketing. Last, but certainly not the least, I began teaching reading classes for the elderly, two nights a week.
I get overwhelmed sometimes, and then anxious about daily to-do lists left undone and the tasks of the week that I’m not sure I’m completing with the attention they deserve. I dream about sending an order of groceries to the wrong food truck, and I’ll wake up in the middle of the night thinking about whether or not I sent the correct allergen-free pan spray to a particular account. I stress about not knowing enough, not working hard enough or long enough, and not knowing how to ask the questions that make sense in my head. And then I met a few people with amazing attitudes and a seriously challenging situation in life.
My “students” for evening reading classes are incredible, resilient people, who at the ages of 70-85 are looking to better themselves, and learn to read. Their reading levels vary from Kindergarten to 2nd grade, and are quick to set goals about their future. “Ella” told me that she throws away all her mail because she can’t read it anyway, so what’s the point? Tomorrow we’ll begin reading her mail together and making sense of it. “Wallace” told me that he’s never been read to before, and can only drive within a mile radius because he’s memorized all the street signs…beyond that mile, he wouldn’t be able to read the signs and get back home. “Nellie” cried tonight when I read her a Bible story, because the only time she’s been read to is over the pulpit at church, and when I told her that she’d be able to write a thank you note by the end of summer, she wept openly and told me she never imagined she’d be able to master such a task. Talk about a reality check–and a serious dose of gratitude. I’m a month in, and they do their homework, get excited about evening class, and thank me profusely at the end, in spite of the fact that they have harder lives than I’ve ever even read about.
I know that I’m a blend of blessed and fortunate, and as stretched as I feel these days, I’m super thankful for my new batch of students who have already taught me much more about life than I’ll ever teach them about reading. I also love that my role of teacher will never really be over.