CANNONBALL

Author's Note: this "artistic" attempt will not be the norm for these posts. Although reflective of-- and stemming from-- my first-day experiences, this entry focuses more on my personal impression rather than the observational and informational format that will consume most of the blog space. I hope you enjoy it!  ~Jim Martin

I toed the water, noting that it met my expectations of being cold and uncomfortable. 
I've been here before... what's the big deal? 
What's the difference? 
My familiar dock only a glance away-- same length, same height, same composition, even...
I've swum to this territory before. 
I know blue gill and striped bass frequent my holdings; not so sure about this one. 
It's new. 
Perhaps I should cast a few lines, see if anything bites; get a feel for it all. 

A crisp wind attempts harmony with the innocuous lake lapping, 
attempting to tip the balance of indecision. 

"Puh-huh," I say, heeling a turn. 

Without a trace more thought, 

                                                                    I jump in.

First day, instructional coach: a collage of helping sophomores find the right classrooms, brief introductions, and passing conversations; not distinctly different from my twenty-one years as a classroom teacher. The coaching group had experienced educational seminars and meetings regarding Professional Learning Communities, roles of coaches, and the obligatory data-driven decisions process, but here was the requisite First Day and little of it was fitting into the prescribed coaching boxes. That being obvious, I reminisced a Fitzgerald passage and bore back ceaselessly into the past.

Finding some open doors of both classroom and personality (familiar places, familiar faces), I was routinely invited in. It was there that I saw the constructs of Maslow's Hierarchy at hand. Food was offered (watermelon and various other snacks), familiarity of environment was established (scavenger hunts, meet-and-greets, establishment of classroom norms, subject overviews, and e-class connections); physical and emotional safety needs. Familiar territory. Standard. All for the good.

I stuck with this formula through the day-- comfortable territory-- until entering a classroom where another known entity was expected. I had missed my mark here. The classroom was empty. No familiar face to pass the time.

I contemplated calling it a day; there was meeting scheduled to end it, and there was always email to check. The thought was hollow and a bit chilling, though, so I passed my cubicle and rounded the corner to a closed-door room. Sighing, I gently rapped on the door and was immediately welcomed by the teacher and students.

The class had viewed a brief video regarding the embracing of personal limitations and rising above them-- even using them-- to advance ourselves. The student task:  listing a few limitations and how they can at least be turned into positives. When the blank papers made full circle to me, I headed them back to the teacher, but, for no conscious reason, I decided to partake of the inventory myself. With a boundless array of personal limitations at hand, I quickly identified three and set to work on flipping the perspective.

The students shared and discussed a few before the day's abridged schedule sent them out, their insights affirming my own. I was left with the bittersweet actualization that I've got a lot of work to do... and I look forward to it.

Chest and Nose corroborate Toe's assertion: cold, uncomfortable.
I gasp, slightly, glancing back at the old dock.
It's not so different. It just looks that way.
Settling, I clamber upon a Styrofoam noodle, shoulders back, chest up.
Sun upon face, breeze through hair...
Time to soak it in from here.