"50-and-up group."
That's the crossword clue from yesterday that nearly made me drive my car off the road.
Is it really possible that, in a mere three months, I'll start getting mail from AARP? How can it be that the youngest child of Jim and Sally Raglin's happy union will be (gulp) half a century old?!
I don't think I can bring myself to tell my mom the news. . .
I've never fretted the age thing much in my life, but that cursed crossword got me thinking. And then, for some weird reason, the term "owner occupied" entered my brain. Maybe it's because we're refinancing. Or maybe there's really no explanation for the bizarre connection I made between turning 50 and occupying myself.
You would think that someone who is on the brink of 50 should live an owner-occupied life. For the most part, I think I do. I think I have a pretty good idea of who I am and what my abilities and shortcomings are. I look at my house and my family and I feel owner-occupied, knowing that each is a source of stability and comfort for me.
In my 24th year as a teacher, I probably should feel owner-occupied in my profession, as well. But this year, I'm not so sure.
It's not that I've changed my approach to teaching so much as the profession has changed its approach to teachers.
More and more, I feel the omnipresence of some unidentified "other," who keeps insisting on more data, more results, more automation. Not surprisingly, it leaves a less-than-owner-occupied taste in my mouth. Maybe, if I were younger, I would be more open to these new procedures. Maybe, if I had more energy, I would see the silver lining in all these changes in the teaching field.
Or maybe, because I'm on the brink of 50, I just want experience to trump external influences, both in my personal and my professional lives.
Maybe 50 will be the year that I stand up and politely grow some professional cajones. Heaven knows I'm already working on the beard. Perhaps this will be the year when I set out to own and occupy not just my classroom but my profession, as well.
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