One Hour a Day

Photo by Jiyeon Park on Unsplash

A year ago this week I started coursework for my post-baccalaureate teaching certification. Today I submitted my final assignments, and now I have the month of December to prepare for student teaching. I have no idea what that will look like—probably no one does—but whether virtually or in-person I’m looking forward to meeting the group of second graders I’ve been assigned to.

I’m nervous. I’m excited. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that next fall I’ll have my own classroom. I spend a lot of time thinking about it.

I also spend a lot of time thinking about my writing and how I’ll continue prioritizing something that’s very important to me. It shouldn’t be hard because, in all honesty, it doesn’t take much time to write—not when you do it every day. And since August of 2019 I’ve committed to being an everyday writer.

I don’t want to lose that. Once I made writing a simple, non negotiable, daily habit, I drafted three books in a year. Again, it doesn’t take much time. One hour a day is plenty. (The hour matters, however; the earlier the better.)

The struggle with teaching will be keeping my headspace clear for that hour. Over and over I hear about how all-consuming the profession is, especially in the first few years. On one hand I want to embrace the challenge, but I also want to avoid burning out like so many new teachers do. The key is insisting on balance, and I’m hoping age will work in my favor.

At forty-five, I have no problems anymore asking for what I need from my family. I’ve gotten better at setting boundaries at work and not feeling guilty about it. I’m wise enough to understand that for anyone to get the best version of me, I need that hour of creative release in the morning. Can I manage to shut everything out and keep claiming that time for me, for my stories?

I’m pretty sure I can. I may just have to get up an hour earlier.