Rereading this reflection, which was first posted in mariasmind, I am very aware of the passing of time and how much my life has changed since the teaching years I wrote about. Now, the main focus of my life is taking care of our mother, which is complicated, exhausting, but can also be rewarding and definitely requires a sense of humour. Some of the best moments spent with her are probably sharing a good laugh at something absurd or silly. She has an offbeat sense of humour, and a beautiful smile.
Sometimes I laugh at myself, rather than cry, at how caught up I get in trying to do everything perfectly. As the reflection will make clear, we take ourselves with us. I am working on chilling a little. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the reflection and can connect to it in some way. Let us know in the comments.
The second piece of advice on that green note paper, given in answer to my search for help regarding my deep insecurities as a teacher, was to laugh at myself and at life: to nurture a sense of humour. Ha! I try hard not to give unasked-for advice – my children may disagree – because it upsets me when others bully me with that kind of advice; the tone is often insistent and impatient. The bully is not interested in my feelings or situation, only in forcefully asserting the only correct advice, which is theirs. However, I am clearly not against receiving advice, when it is asked for and sensitively given. Sometimes, wise advice can be life-changing and have unforeseen ripple effects far beyond the immediate situation.
I have been putting off returning to this topic of life lessons learned, specifically cultivating a sense of humour, especially with challenging people and situations. I have been struggling to write honestly and coherently, because the more I think about it, the more complex and nuanced the topic, its context, and how I have tried to integrate it into my life becomes. However, if I don’t do it now, especially as it applies to my teaching career, I will, like Nora Ephron, “remember nothing.” In part, it is difficult to write about a sense of humour because what makes me smile or laugh, what I find funny, is not necessarily in accord with others’ sense of humour – as has often been pointed out to me by my family. Therefore, I can only write about my evolution, both as a teacher, with students, parents and my peers, and how being able to laugh more, especially at myself, plays out in the rest of my life.
In hindsight, how I interpreted this recommendation to relax – chill – is that I should try to detach myself a little, understand and consciously remind myself that everyone has their unique context: the emotional, social, intellectual and age-related factors that shadowed me and the students in front of me, and so to try to smile and even laugh at the absurdities and drama that connecting with others is often about. It is very interesting about the impact of smiles . . . Pretty much any observation or advice I offer to my mother – if it is accompanied by a sincere smile – will be accepted more positively. Don Rickles, arguably the original insult comic, was able to sustain a lengthy successful career by making it clear that it was all for fun. He repeatedly told his targets and his audiences over the years to “laugh at life [and] to laugh and enjoy.” When the tables were turned on him, he always laughed wholeheartedly. Smiling and being able to find humour, especially in stressful situations, is another slowly learned life lesson; it applies not only to teaching and the relationships that constitute that world, but also to all aspects of my life, and the many diverse relationships that give it meaning and colour. Integrating this advice is generally easier said and endorsed, than consistently practiced as part of my approach. At least that has been my experience.
By now, I remember little about my first teaching year; it was a steep learning curve, bolstered by lots of negative self-talk and thankfully, wonderfully supportive fellow teachers. I would not have survived without them. I remember the names of some students in one class, who were sweet, patient and understanding about my inexperience; I learned what to expect from them, and began figuring out my own teaching style and how to manage the rhythm of the semester. In stark contrast, I remember another class that year, at the end of the school day; I don’t remember any of the names of the 33 teenage students, but I vividly remember the moment I lost control of the class. On the first day, a student entered, late and loud, and that was it. I also remember my despair and being advised to see the humour in the situation: one thin – back then – middle-aged, yet inexperienced, teacher attempting to manage, for 75 minutes, a boisterous group, impatient for the school day to be over. I could not. A combination of insecurity and high expectations for myself meant that I was incapable of projecting confidence that I did not feel. I needed to maintain control, but I couldn’t. I definitely could not let myself be vulnerable by risking laughing at myself in front of them. What if they laughed at me instead of with me . . .
Well, the years passed, I gained experience, watched how other teachers handled difficult classes and slowly gained insights, confidence and the ability to appreciate that life would continue despite a difficult class or semester. I learned to laugh at my technological incompetence in front of other teachers and increasingly in front of students. Regarding computers, I firmly believe that if there’s an easy way and a hard way, I always seem to find the even harder way. I don’t know how I do it . . . Of course, as is consistently my default when I am anticipating or hoping for change, I read. Other teachers’ experiences and strategies helped me to feel that I was not alone. I know that I was not always able to see the humour in the classroom and in interactions with students to a satisfactory degree, but I know that I improved a lot over the years.
I don’t know if I’ve improved over the years as a caregiver. Hindsight will help. I certainly know that having been a teacher has helped a lot, especially in the beginning, when I was organizing, putting systems in place and communicating with the necessary people in the health care system to improve our mother’s wellbeing as much as possible, given her situation. Some things I could fix, and some things I just can’t, and that is hard – maybe the hardest – for me to accept. So, sometimes being to laugh at aspects of the situation, with our mother, and at myself, truly does help.
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