I’ve been rather absent. I have several good excuses.
I blame it all on the International School of Djibouti and I blame all that on my husband.
He’s the director and visionary for the school. He is also teaching and I have been conscripted as secretary, administrator, website developer, photographer, substitute, social media manager, errand runner, facilities manager, extra curricular organizer, chef, school nurse…and anything else that needs to get done person.
What does that mean, practically?
It means that, without stopping any of the other things I did before, I’ve added twenty-five hours of work to my weekly schedule. Those hours are spent in the office. Never mind the mental and emotional hours that go into a family start-up like this.
Mostly, I love it.
I love our school – our students, teachers, parents, the community that is growing. We started the year with 10 students and now have a student body of 19, with the wide age range of 3-17. We’ve had school picnics, field trips, holiday parties, celebrated birthdays. We moved the entire school halfway through the year to an incredible new property. We built a beautiful playground. We’ve played basketball, baseball, done yoga and art, hosted music classes. We’re working with refugees to partner and provide education and educational materials. We have an ever-growing and well-used library.
It has been an incredibly steep learning curve and we are still, I think, on the upward climb of that curve. We have students and parents who are patient with us and also who challenge us and encourage us to keep growing, to think creatively.
Sometimes, it is hard to have my husband as my boss. Go figure. Yesterday, at home, I said to him, “I’ll be your secretary at ISD but I’m not your secretary at home.” It was a nasty, snide comment in response to a snide request and is one small example of how we are working out working together. Not all bumps and bruises, but not all chocolate and roses either.
Probably the number one thing that has fallen to the wayside in this season of pushing, pushing, pushing on a dream, is this blog.
I wish that weren’t the case. I wish I was able to focus. But I sit down to type up some thoughts and a kid comes in with a bloody knee. Or I open a blank word document and instead of thinking up thoughtful responses to refugee travel bans, I can only think of how much toilet paper I need to buy for the preschool classroom.
I’m still writing. I’m just not hitting ‘publish’ as often.
I’m a little afraid I’ll get rusty. Like a runner, trying to come back after an injury. Or that I’ll lose my audience, like a has-been actress still trying to light up the screen.
I’m still here. I hope you’re still there.
Anyone else pushing on a dream lately? How’s it going?