What Winds May Come
Hurricane Sandy (Frankenstorm, Superstorm, whichever
sensational title you prefer) came and went this week leaving a wake of
devastation in the New York City area, but anticlimactically affecting very
little of my immediate neighborhood of East Harlem. During the height of the
storm my living room windows rattled, but not loud enough to distract from a
group viewing of Star Trek on our
flat screen TV. Eric Bana’s forehead tattoo was more frightening than the
raging weather.
This is not to say that the storm wasn’t powerful or worthy
of such forceful nicknames. Clearly submerged subway stations, millions without
power, and grounded flights days after the incident are a BIG DEAL, I’m just
saying that, from my perspective, it really wasn’t so bad.
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| Sandy leaves debris in the South Ferry subway station. From nytimes.com |
One really interesting facet to Sandra’s aftermath is that
schools have been closed all week. That’s right – the entire week. This has
created an extremely bizarre situation for me, as I have this wealth of time on
my hands and no particular idea how to use it. What’s essentially happened is
I’ve squandered this gift on extra sleep, long walks and runs through the city,
and time with friends. But now I hesitate, is squandered really the right verb? I think using my time in such a
way is actually pretty awesome, and I don’t think I should feel bad about it.
Maybe the purpose of this blog post is to validate my lethargy to the public –
I’ve earned this, right? No response needed.
Another more meaningful takeaway I’ve gathered from the
arrival of tempestuous winds and rising tides is that we really can, if we
choose, take a step back, prioritize what is important to us, and rest for a
moment. As you might know, the first two months of the school year for me have
been awful. Again, maybe awful isn’t
the right word, but at least challenging and somewhat defeating. My 8th
grade team has seen the arrival and departure of 2 teams members in 2 months.
My role at the school has changed from special educator to 8th grade
reading teacher, a not so tiny adjustment, particularly with the transition
occurring mid-year. A few relationships in my life, particularly with
professional colleagues, are not where I’d like them to be, so a sense of
isolation has been beating me down in conjunction with the general wear and
tear that comes with educating 8th graders in the South Bronx. But
the storm has now past. It is now time to brush myself off, look in admiration
at the trees that have stood their ground, breathe in the curious scents of a
new season, and move forward. I know what it is important to me – it is my
family, my girlfriend, my friends, the purpose that drives me, the love that
surrounds me, the highest ideal of a man I hope to be, and the faith I have in
God. With these priorities remaining steadfast in my corner, even a classroom
of the squirrelliest, tensest, most disrespectful children do not stand a
chance – I will win. I have weathered stronger storms before. You cannot defeat
me. That’s what I tell myself at least, as I sit lazily on day 3 of Hurricane
Sandy’s Unexpected Fall Break, savoring the moment and preparing for what winds
may come.
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