waiting. still. again.

A slight bummer of a day--I'm supposed to observe or "assist" Marcela's classes this week, but the two classes today were just finishing up the activity of making English-language decorations for their classroom. It's totally worthwhile and I support it, but there's no point in my being there when there's nothing to either observe or teach. So I helped some random student with some pronunciation in a poem, and then I bailed for the day.

The other thing is that someone appears to be using the classroom I thought was going to be mine, which means it might only be mine during my class periods, or I might be wrong about which room it is.

What I actually want is to get started teaching, in my own classroom, which is why I came. I started this project in May or so, and it's now been a year and it is all so. Tantalizingly. Close.

(Tantalus, worse than stealing ambrosia and nectar from the gods, also killed and cooked his son Pelops and served him to them. Ew.)

But no one here knows how long I've waited for this, and it would be meaningless to tell them. I'd just be dragging irrelevant past crap into new relationships, which is what we always do: expressing our anger at something that happened a decade ago, assuming my girlfriend will act like my other girlfriend did that one time, and holy crap that was awful and WHY ARE YOU DOING IT TO ME AGAIN--oh wait, that wasn't you.

Practice is to see that happening, and choose differently: choose to let each new relationship and experience unfold as if it's the first one of its kind (which it is), alive and growing on its own terms only.