The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

::waves::

Hi!

Wow. A lot has happened since my last post! If you don't know me, my name is Martha. No, I'm not a 90-year-old resident of a retirement home. My mom named me after my great-grandmother. I have a melancholic personality, which fits well--Martha literally means "sorrowful and full of tears" (thanks mom). If you're looking to be offended, you found the right place. I'm an adult survivor of child abuse. Watching my family drown in a life of alcoholism, drug abuse, and mental illness helps me understand what my students are going through. Climbing out of a life of poverty and helplessness prepared me to keep my expectations high for my students. My teachers, youth pastors, professors, and friends stepped in and provided the support I needed. THIS is how I know that teachers are immeasurably influential in the lives of their students.

I'm embarrassed to say that I became less reflective lately and I'm feeling the effects of it. I once took pride in pursuing excellence and improving my craft (whatever it may be at the time), but I slowly became complacent and satisfied with mediocrity. This isn't the person I want my children to remember. It's not the teacher my students should have. It's time to kick my ass back into gear.

Although I've had the least growth outwardly, I'd like to think that I'm beginning to understand my personality better. What makes me tick. My triggers. What motivates me.

My husband and sons are introverts, and while doing research and taking trainings (yes I'm *that* mom) to help me better understand them, I learned that introvert does NOT mean "shy". It means that being around people drains them, and they need time alone to recharge and process new information. As I learned more, I realized that I'm also an introvert. That explains why I've only had three close friends my whole life. And why I never learned the names of anyone that lived in my dormitory hall in college. After spending all day teaching and talking to twenty 8-year-olds, I HAVE to unwind and unpack my thoughts.

But meetings.

The bane of my existence. The necessary evil.

I value the ideas of colleagues and I recognize the importance of collaboration. But why can't we collaborate via text? I carefully budget my energy to last the entire school day, then there's a surprise faculty meeting after school. o.O I've talked to psychiatrist about it. He laughed.