It's two short weeks before testing, and today my doctors gleefully informed me that my foot surgery had to happen asap.
''But I'm in charge of testing at our middle school..." I hid my lame foot behind the healthy one as I pleaded.
"Yes, well, your foot doesn't seem to understand that right now." Turning to the side to make notations on his charts, the doctor obviously didn't understand what I was saying.
"There's only me."
Silence, except for the continued pen scribbles on the medical chart.
"I can't do it now. I just can't." Chin jutting forward, I was sure my tone was definitive. I even stopped swinging my feet...though I still kept the lame one from sight.
The doctor turned then, and fixed me with his medical-school gaze. You know, the one that says, "Seriously? You think you're that important?" His eyebrows lowered to accent the frustration in his eyes.
"You've already been on that foot far too long. If you had come in a few months ago, perhaps we could have put some splints into play or done something to ameliorate your symptoms. But now you've torn a tendon and dislocated two toes." He turned and scribbled some more, then pivoted once again to face me. Jabbing his pen my direction he concluded, "Now you don't have a choice."
Normally a sassy chatterbox, I was mute. He was right. I had gimped along for weeks on my sore foot, convinced that I could overcome weakness with educator willpower.
As I looked down at my throbbing foot, I realized: I was stupid.
No, not stupid in the name calling sense, but self-absorbed stupid. I'd been so convinced of my necessity at the school that I hammered away on the concrete halls until I'd worked my foot into deformity. Now, when the school most needed me, I would let them down. Had I taken a break earlier in the year to get the help I needed, maybe I wouldn't require surgery--and an extended break--now.
Chalk it up to another "adulting" lesson learned.
We need to take care of ourselves every day. We're not so important that we cannot take a few days off for our health. And we're not so unimportant that we can be cavalier with our personal needs.
Taking care of ourselves is ultimately taking care of others. If we aren't able to be there, we cannot do what we're called to do. And educators matter.
Now allow me to crank out some ridiculous figurative analogies: Educators are the
-wheels on the car
-propellor for the airplane
-AC in the summer
-Heat in the winter
-most flavorful chocolate in the assortment
-marshmallows for the crispy rice
-soles for the running shoes
-creamer for the coffee
-salt for the fries
-balm for the wound
-eye-crinkle to the laughter
-soft tissue for the sore nose
-warm bath for the weary
-melody for the song
-instructions in the manual
-electricity for the bulbs
-water for the desert
-tour guide for the unsure
-philanthropist for the needy
-nurse for the hurting
-dam for the lake
-reservoir for the future
-shine for the stemware
-high thread count to the sheets
-lighthouse for the ships
-sentinel for the castle
-bullhorn for the hard of hearing
-quiet cheerleader for the unnoticed
-bandage for the scrape
-lobbyist for the weak
-pressure gauge for the stresfsed
-mute friend to ones venting
-sound proofing for the private
-peace officer for those wandering
-guardrails for reckless personalities
-air traffic controllers for students' myriad flight patterns
''But I'm in charge of testing at our middle school..." I hid my lame foot behind the healthy one as I pleaded.
"Yes, well, your foot doesn't seem to understand that right now." Turning to the side to make notations on his charts, the doctor obviously didn't understand what I was saying.
"There's only me."
Silence, except for the continued pen scribbles on the medical chart.
"I can't do it now. I just can't." Chin jutting forward, I was sure my tone was definitive. I even stopped swinging my feet...though I still kept the lame one from sight.
The doctor turned then, and fixed me with his medical-school gaze. You know, the one that says, "Seriously? You think you're that important?" His eyebrows lowered to accent the frustration in his eyes.
"You've already been on that foot far too long. If you had come in a few months ago, perhaps we could have put some splints into play or done something to ameliorate your symptoms. But now you've torn a tendon and dislocated two toes." He turned and scribbled some more, then pivoted once again to face me. Jabbing his pen my direction he concluded, "Now you don't have a choice."
Normally a sassy chatterbox, I was mute. He was right. I had gimped along for weeks on my sore foot, convinced that I could overcome weakness with educator willpower.
As I looked down at my throbbing foot, I realized: I was stupid.
No, not stupid in the name calling sense, but self-absorbed stupid. I'd been so convinced of my necessity at the school that I hammered away on the concrete halls until I'd worked my foot into deformity. Now, when the school most needed me, I would let them down. Had I taken a break earlier in the year to get the help I needed, maybe I wouldn't require surgery--and an extended break--now.
Chalk it up to another "adulting" lesson learned.
We need to take care of ourselves every day. We're not so important that we cannot take a few days off for our health. And we're not so unimportant that we can be cavalier with our personal needs.
Taking care of ourselves is ultimately taking care of others. If we aren't able to be there, we cannot do what we're called to do. And educators matter.
Now allow me to crank out some ridiculous figurative analogies: Educators are the
-wheels on the car
-propellor for the airplane
-AC in the summer
-Heat in the winter
-most flavorful chocolate in the assortment
-marshmallows for the crispy rice
-soles for the running shoes
-creamer for the coffee
-salt for the fries
-balm for the wound
-eye-crinkle to the laughter
-soft tissue for the sore nose
-warm bath for the weary
-melody for the song
-instructions in the manual
-electricity for the bulbs
-water for the desert
-tour guide for the unsure
-philanthropist for the needy
-nurse for the hurting
-dam for the lake
-reservoir for the future
-shine for the stemware
-high thread count to the sheets
-lighthouse for the ships
-sentinel for the castle
-bullhorn for the hard of hearing
-quiet cheerleader for the unnoticed
-bandage for the scrape
-lobbyist for the weak
-pressure gauge for the stresfsed
-mute friend to ones venting
-sound proofing for the private
-peace officer for those wandering
-guardrails for reckless personalities
-air traffic controllers for students' myriad flight patterns