When I first moved to NYC in 1987, I worked for a publisher at a magazine. After a few weeks of working there, the publisher took me out to lunch. After we returned to the office he called me a "maverick" and "iconoclast". I was 25, a recent English Major graduate, but I had to look up both words when I got home from work. I was both thrilled and perplexed by these two words being associated with me, the wet behind the ears green horn in the office. As weeks turned to months and magazine publishing to books, I realized it was my bold idealism and genuine questioning that the publisher probably heard that day at lunch.
I think it's also being a New England Yankee, of the can-do cut of cloth, and having grown up in two households where "question authority" was a mantra long before it was a bumper stick or pin. It's often not knowing enough to be fearful, that allows innovation or a new approach to rise. When I was younger it was with puppy-like steps I'd walk into mostly male dominated fields (cabinetmaking, boatbuilding, diving) or decide to move from Portland, ME to Cambridge, MA to NYC within two seasons.
Yet, as I was suggesting last night, each move wasn't a matter of luck, but slowly listening to myself, setting just beyond my reach goals for myself. Earn a BA in English, apply to Radcliffe's Publishing Course, attend the Publishing Job Fair at the New Yorker, and decided to work in publishing in NYC.
That progressed to working in book publishing at a literary agency, and after years of apprenticing at the oldest and largest agency in NYC, deciding to move to SF to try my hand at starting my own agency. Starting the agency required working three jobs, seven days a week for three years, but then I could quit all but the agency.
When my children came along, and we decided to move back East of the public schools and family members, I decided to career change again. This time to teaching. First at Audubon, then Acton-Boxborough, while getting my MAT at Simmons, and now for almost a decade in Leominster.
Two years ago, I went on my first Educational tour, to the Galapagos, with teachers and students from LHS. Afterward, I decided to try to lead my own tours. This June it will two years since I launched the trip to Australia/New Zealand and Oahu. We have 15 people enrolled and we're set to leave late June.
Only this week I found out that the tour has to be pushed up a few days, to accommodated the other schools that are being consolidated with my group, which was a growing fear of mine with all the snow days we've had. I spoke to one of my union reps and they advised contacting the Superintendent asap.
This afternoon, fretting a wee bit about the politics of end of the year finals possibly conflicting with the trip, I called the Super's Secretary to make an appointment, and she took my cell number, but didn't enquire as to why I was calling, which made me skeptical. She said he'd get in touch with me.
As I left the building and was heading toward the staff parking lot, who should I see drive up to the High School? The Superintendent! I hesitated for a moment, spun around and called out to him just before he entered the building. He said he'd received my message and paused. I asked if I could have a minute of his time and if I could walk with him on his way to his meeting. He said he was there for the Science Fair. He then stopped and asked what he could do for me. We had a very succinct, sincere and successful discussion. It ended with a handshake, my promising to email him some materials, and plans to make the trip possible with solutions I'd already begun to form!
A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders! The burden of not knowing how to address the possibility of keeping two conflicting commitments had been eating at me. Plus, the climate in our district right now is full of fear and uncertainty. Thankfully, I felt none of that as I resumed my walk, out of the building, down the side walk and into my car. I felt free!
Freedom, most indubitably, lies in being bold, as Robert Frost, another dang Yankee, said so well in the last century!
Good Night, Be Bold and set yourself Free, G'night!
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