Waiting
I've spent a lot of time in waiting rooms the past nine years. Today my view is beautiful. There is a wall of windows in front of me and the snow is falling lightly. The bare trees are dressed up in white. It looks like a painting. Just beyond is the busy road with cars and trucks moving slowly due to the road conditions. The world moves on while several of us sit here and wait. We wait to join a loved one undergoing a procedure. We wait for news.
My life is chaotic lately. I'm sure it is not much different than most of those waiting here with me. We are busy people, filling life with tasks and passions and deadlines and work and play. I don't take time to sit and take in the view very often. I don't give myself permission to watch the snow fall. I convince myself it is wasted time and every single second lost is a loss in productivity. I guess some would say that I'm driven. I am starting to think I just like to stay busy in an effort to avoid difficult things. When I sit here quietly the anxiety creeps in, the what ifs take over, the fears speak loudly. I recall every minute in waiting rooms in the past, every minute of chemo treatment room waiting, every minute sitting in the oncologist's office waiting for news. It all comes back, fresh as the first day we met Cancer and reluctantly began sharing life with him.
I'm listening to conversations. The weather is the topic of choice this morning. We are all avoiding the real topic as we sit and wait. So many of us don't like the silence. I'm not alone.
Sitting here watching the snow, though, makes me want to write. It brings all sorts of topics to mind. It gives me permission to just let ideas flow and my fingers move. I have given myself permission to think, breathe, wonder, express, explore, create.
Perhaps our schools need a waiting room, a place where students can simply be quiet in community with those who understand their anxieties and relate to their fears. Perhaps we need a room where students can have permission to simply watch the snow and process life. Perhaps then they would not be reluctant to write and would have the license and room to create and explore with words. Our schools are chaotic places. I see it more and more. There's pressure to meet expectations of curricula, to meet expectations of testing requirements, pressure to get through the day and cover all that needs covered, pressure to keep momentum. I wonder if there are students today like me that would find a bit of respite in being made to wait in a waiting room watching snow fall listening to quiet music and finding solace in the keyboard or the pen. I'm guessing it is so.
My life is chaotic lately. I'm sure it is not much different than most of those waiting here with me. We are busy people, filling life with tasks and passions and deadlines and work and play. I don't take time to sit and take in the view very often. I don't give myself permission to watch the snow fall. I convince myself it is wasted time and every single second lost is a loss in productivity. I guess some would say that I'm driven. I am starting to think I just like to stay busy in an effort to avoid difficult things. When I sit here quietly the anxiety creeps in, the what ifs take over, the fears speak loudly. I recall every minute in waiting rooms in the past, every minute of chemo treatment room waiting, every minute sitting in the oncologist's office waiting for news. It all comes back, fresh as the first day we met Cancer and reluctantly began sharing life with him.
I'm listening to conversations. The weather is the topic of choice this morning. We are all avoiding the real topic as we sit and wait. So many of us don't like the silence. I'm not alone.
Sitting here watching the snow, though, makes me want to write. It brings all sorts of topics to mind. It gives me permission to just let ideas flow and my fingers move. I have given myself permission to think, breathe, wonder, express, explore, create.
Perhaps our schools need a waiting room, a place where students can simply be quiet in community with those who understand their anxieties and relate to their fears. Perhaps we need a room where students can have permission to simply watch the snow and process life. Perhaps then they would not be reluctant to write and would have the license and room to create and explore with words. Our schools are chaotic places. I see it more and more. There's pressure to meet expectations of curricula, to meet expectations of testing requirements, pressure to get through the day and cover all that needs covered, pressure to keep momentum. I wonder if there are students today like me that would find a bit of respite in being made to wait in a waiting room watching snow fall listening to quiet music and finding solace in the keyboard or the pen. I'm guessing it is so.
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