No desks, no blackboard

I’m in that odd transitional place right now of looking for work. I’ve decided to leave my current job, but haven’t determined what is next. It feels a little like being an awkward Tarzan-wannabe with unreliable vines. In this economy it’s more than a little nerve-wracking.

Of course I’m applying to teaching jobs. I have the all-important two years teaching experience and a clear commitment to the nourishment and accompaniment of nascent humanity, aka “education.” When I started here I was just trying on the idea of being a teacher or educator. Now I own both those words willingly. Applying them to myself feels a little like claiming I have super powers.

But I’m not strictly a classroom teacher. I don’t dislike classrooms at all. I actually love the book-ends of time, the learning space created, the ritual of white boards, lesson plans, class discussion, activities, notes, homework, etc. I love the pre-class planning rush that feels like a theater production going up on the first night.

And the garden is also my classroom – and the kitchen, the woods, field trips, and city streets. And, in retrospect, my work as an educator began long before I claimed it as a label, when I worked in publishing and journalism, community organizing, and anti-racism work.

Education is very closely related to ministry, art, and writing for me. They are different aspects of the bread of life that we offer each other, that which is most essential. Through giving and receiving, we teach and learn and re-learn how to be human.

So while I would be very happy to find a teaching position at Friends or independent school (sorry public schools, no teaching certification), don’t mind me if I look a little broader.

I see the classroom everywhere.