Office Space

A heavy bag on my shoulder, my bag of tricks holding everything from attendance charts to a quickly packed lunch. There was never really space for me to work in that school, or in any of the other three I traveled to throughout the week. A corner of the library or a hallway nook was typically what I made my home. As a gifted teacher, flexibility was always my most needed survival skill. I wasn’t informed of the assembly at ten or the fire drill at one. Mrs. G had a guest speaker, and her students couldn’t attend my groups that day. I had no space to call my own, but I had the most amazing students. Students who looked at the world just a little differently, who often wanted more and sometimes pushed back at the how and why and the compliance school so often expects. Students who interrupted with questions and thoughts they couldn’t control and who tired easily of the mundane and rote tasks often necessary for other students to achieve. I carted my supplies in and carted my supplies out. Then I traveled home to kids struggling with homework, to preparing dinner, and to more driving to this activity or that, ending the night by filling up my bag for another day of magic.

For years, this was my everyday experience. My days were often so full that I barely knew whether I was coming or going. Most days there wasn’t much I wanted more than a break and an office to sit in and call my own. Now I sit with the wind blowing gently, a dog at my feet, and a lake in front of me. I don’t want an office anymore. I want space. I still crave the day-to-day busyness of family and work, but I also love the slow, laid-back days when my thoughts drift and my words flow across the page.

In the midst of all my hauling, teaching, driving, and serving, I never really realized what I was building or the purpose taking shape beneath my work. It was mostly just what I did every day. Now I find myself in a new stage of life where my days, and my office, are wide open. The walls and boundaries that once held me are gone. It is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It feels full and empty, peaceful and lonely.

For months, I have been wrapped up in my cocoon, trying simply to survive the changes to my space, my body, and my mind. It is a world I do not quite know how to navigate. I don’t know exactly where I’m going or what I’m supposed to carry into this season. I no longer have people constantly demanding my attention or care, and yet there are still moments when I need to drop everything and become a superhuman solver of someone else’s problems.

But today I felt a shift, a tiny nudge. As I push against the edges of that cocoon, I can see a wonderful, wide-open world in front of me. So many choices. So many possibilities. Perhaps I was never meant to have a traditional office or a regular job. Perhaps those years prepared me for a time such as this, a time to be flexible and adaptive in a new way. Maybe this is the season when I can finally set down the heavy bags and step out of the closed hallway corners. Maybe now I am meant to let my thoughts drift toward the teachers and mothers making their way through full, demanding days and offer something that lightens the load. A word. An insight. A bit of wisdom. Maybe this is simply my time to fly.