August's Things
On Being Better at Things the Second Time Around
August is a whirlwind in a part of the year where whirlwinds are unwelcome and almost unfathomable. While a lot of the northern hemisphere is taking an extended vacation, we are trying to start School, which means building a thousand systems (and cursing ourselves for not having built them in July, before realizing - again - that we didn’t have the information we needed to build them in July), moving a thousand boxes, asking a thousand questions, and managing a thousand feelings (Ours. Families’. Kids’.). The languid, sweltering days of August do not lend themselves well to frantic activity, but here we are, acting frantically (or is that just me?).
Unlike last year, I was prepared for this August. Not, like actual work-prepared (nope, only about a quarter of my summer to-do list was done on July 31st), but emotionally prepared. The last two years, August hit me like a train, with the amount of work that needed to be conceptualized and executed simply shocking to my system. There was no excuse for being shocked last year, but I was, so this year I was determined not to be caught by surprise. And, largely, I wasn’t; while the feeling of drinking out of a firehouse wasn’t necessarily pleasant, it was expected, and because it was expected, it was manageable most days.
My refrain at work during August was, “no one is allowed to apologize to me until September.”
There is too much new and too much uncertain and too much generally for us to take energy on apologizing for things. I mean, obviously, it’s fine to apologize for being short with someone and you should apologize for saying something hurtful, but, like, don’t apologize to me for missing an email until we’ve all had chance to get our collective feet on the ground.
In August, I thought a lot about the reality of being better at things the second time around. Obviously, we know that practice makes improvement, but being able to remember that when new at things is nigh on impossible, when it feels like you’re drowning and will never be able to breathe again.
I changed grade levels and content last year, and felt the whole year like I was drowning. This year, while I changed grade levels again (and therefore have to generate all new plans again), I didn’t change students (bless) and didn’t change content, and suddenly I feel like I know how to do August and know how to teach in a way that I thought would never appear again.
Part of this is Year 5 (technically, this is my Year 6, but I’m not counting starting the year of the pandemic in terms of muscle memory because it was such a different beast). This is the first year that I almost don’t feel like a first year teacher all over again. It’s taken that many repetitions to figure out a rhythm that will work and to prioritize what matters versus what can matter later. That’s not to say that I knew what I was doing on the first day of school before the day-before-the-first-day-of-school (I did not), but what I DID know was that I would figure that out. The nightmares were present (most teachers and former teachers indicate to me that they always will be), but they were less frequent and less pronounced. When they happened, I could wake up and go, “ah, back to school nightmare,” rather than moving through full-on adrenaline rush and crash.
Something I read in June felt like it played a bit part of August. I did read two books in August, which isn’t terrible, all things considered, but it was Lissa Soep’s Other People’s Words that’s been on my mind this summer. The whole book is about the way that other people speak influences the way we speak and think and dream, and what happens when we lose those people but their words stay with us. The whole book is also an exploration of Bakhtin, who was both muse and nemesis during grad school. I groaned every time his name showed up on a syllabus, because I knew I was going to be lost. But, after multiple seminars talking about whatever the thing was that I was supposed to read, I always found a grudging appreciation and gratitude for his work. It’s just that I needed about 15 people to explain it to me in different ways before I could make any sense out of it.
All that work felt like it had value all over again this summer because Bakhtin was easier the second time around, and with the support of Soep and everyone who’s ever patiently explained to me what I was missing about him. And if that isn’t an ode to teaching - what could be?
I taught my first yoga workshop at my home studio in August, too, and that idea of the way other people’s words shape our own, shape the way we move through the world and share it with others, was also profoundly present in the planning and teaching. I was absolutely terrified of teaching at my studio; the bar is so high. AND 1.) I believe in doing the hard thing, almost without exception, and 2.) it felt like the only next step.
Before my audition for that workshop, I’d never taught in front of ANY of my teachers there. There is nothing scarier, in my opinion, than teaching your teachers. The stakes feel so high - not because these people are scary (they’re not or else why would I still be there?) or aren’t cheering you on (of course they are). The only thing I want in the world is for them to see that I’ve internalized what they’ve patiently, lovingly, steadfastly shared over the last decade (and, yes, for them to see me as competent, which is an annoying but very core value for me). The risk of disappointing these people who’ve shaped the way you think and act and, in the case of my yoga teachers, literally breathe, feels like it could shatter you.
But it was their words that got me through the nerves, their words coming out of my mouth that made that experience go smoothly for me and have some value to the people who joined me for it. As I pulled words from all five of the teachers who’ve shaped my practice - not intentionally, but because it’s impossible not to - I could trust that what I was offering had value, and I could believe that the version I taught could be better than the version I auditioned with, because doing anything a second time is easier.
Other Things I Loved in August
Toaster Waffles (especially these from the best grocery store in the world)
Fridge Poetry (better than staring at my phone while my waffles toast)
This eye cream (not a skincare person, but my eyes have been very dry, and the cooling sensation of this is nice)
Living in long sleeves and shorts. This is my favorite sleeve/leg length combination, and the layering effect is perfect for staving off air conditioning and also not melting outside.
I’d love to hear what you loved in August, what you’re better at the second time, or what payoffs you feel like are happening (or could happen soon) that are a long time coming.
I’d love to see you for Gentle Hatha Sundays this month! Start your week with a relaxing practice and help to banish those Sunday scaries. Click on the image below to register, and if you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment or reach out to me directly.
Something I loved in August is a S'more! I don't usually rave about them, but Jon and I enjoyed a chillier-than-usual night on the deck with a fire and yummy S'mores and it was absolutely perfect. :D Something I'm trying so hard to be better at the second, third, etc. time around is setting and keeping my freelance deadlines. Not the deadlines set by clients, but my "internal" deadlines, like progress markers. I recently completed two large projects and found that setting smaller deadlines was a game-changer for me. In the past, I would live with the final to-client deadline, and it would HAUNT me for months as I tried to chip away at the project. Now, bite-sized deadlines give me a sense of accomplishment I had previously been unfamiliar with and it's a much nicer feeling than dread, heh. Best of luck this school year!!
I’ve thought about repetition in an entirely new way thanks to parenting a toddler. In all of my learning/student experiences I always expected myself to understand immediately and be good at things the first time. Nothing like raising a tiny human to see that none of us start out good at things! But through repetition, we can build skills. Something I want for myself is to value repetition more and have kinder expectations for myself in learning and doing things for the first time. It’s hard! But worth it.
Love reading your writing, as always!