End of another year
A few years ago, at Mia’s preschool, the mom of one of her friends mentioned to me how the end of every school year brings up a lot of mixed emotions for her. I remember thinking that she had been at it for a few years, her oldest in 3rd grade at that time. Her honesty then released me from any urge to resist the unsettling feelings these transitions bring up, and I remind myself of that every year.
At the parent teacher conference, after the reports were shared and nice things were said, I wanted to add something but instead burst into tears. The week had gotten to me and the soft, quiet kindness of the classroom, in that moment, split me open. The children inhabit an intimate space where, collectively, playfully, they shape their understanding of the world and how to be in it, together. Most days, they spend more time in these rooms and grounds, with their friends and teachers, than with us. Yet my connection to these spaces is sporadic, blurry, undefined. Mia is braver than I am and I hope that she will continue to gallop, march and run curiously, joyfully, past all this.
The silk fabric of the button-up ‘pajama’ shirt I wore to the meeting had a nice sheen to it. I had sweated in it earlier during the interview at home, and cried in it later in the classroom.
‘Pajamas’, paint on paper
Recently:
While painting, I have been listening to a lot of Fred Again, and sometimes Gorillaz, Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru, and Peter Cat Recording.
Rachel Cusk has a new book out and I am going to savor every word. I also recently started re-reading the Outline trilogy.
I finished reading and enjoyed August Blue. Also appreciated was the slow, nuanced evolution of the characters in A Separation.