The More Things Change

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While working on last week's posts, I came across this one and it struck me how similar things feel now with all of the newness of online instruction. Not too long ago, I changed offices at work, and I even got to personalize the space a little. I'm now part of a suite of offices populated by colleagues who are fun and I'm looking forward to revisiting that office soon. But, for now, my office is just off my living room, my wardrobe is at-home casual, and I still don't miss those inservices.

When I retired from public education, I knew there would be things I wouldn't miss. Early morning meetings. Faculty meetings. Irrelevant inservices. (Are you sensing a theme?)

But it didn't take me long to realize that there's one thing I do miss: an office.

I also miss the people and the parts of the job I loved, of course, but I expected that. I didn't expect a small, cluttered room with hand-me-down furniture to leave a void.

At first, being able to work at home -- anywhere I wanted -- was exciting. Tired of sitting at a desk? Move to the sofa. Tired of the sofa? Relocate to the dining room table. Sick of the house, or just plain distracted? Head over to Starbucks.

The wardrobe was better, too. Well, not better quality or more professional -- just cheaper and more comfortable. Sweatshirts and pj bottoms were de rigeur and makeup was optional.

I'm not sure why it surprised me to discover that adjusting to this new lifestyle also required adjusting my perception of who I was. For 27 years, I'd been a professional educator and a semi-professional writer. My new work environment and wardrobe, though functional and comfortable, didn't feel like professional anything. And even though articles and books got written and edited, classes got planned and correspondence got sent -- all amid the comforts of home -- the lack of a traditional workspace, though romantic and freeing in theory, made the limbo created by an early retirement less gap than chasm.

A year into this adventure, I was hired as an adjunct professor, adding a new role to the midlife collage, and bringing with it an unexpected bonus.

Office hours.

zazzle.com

Once a week, for an hour, I pulled an office chair up to an L-shaped desk in a shared room with little to offer in the way of decor -- a far cry from the crazy quilt of animal prints and bright colors that had been my home base in an elementary school across town.

And I loved it.

Three semesters later, my course load has grown and with it, my office hours. I'm required to offer an hour for each course I teach, but I typically spend more time in the office than that. It's peaceful -- mostly -- and the academic atmosphere fills a void I didn't expect to have, but that -- once again -- shouldn't have surprised me. After all, you can take the counselor out of the school, but, apparently, you can't take the school out of the counselor.

At home, I'm working on making my office less haphazard and more of a true workspace. My Wednesday posts (and new blog) on organization have nudged me toward more efficiency, as well as more personalization.

If Virgina Woolf is right, and "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction," then I think, perhaps, I'm on the right track.

Where to Write

Photo credit: Luis Llerena via unsplash.com

More than twenty years ago, I left a full-time job as a school counselor in one district to take a part-time job as a school counselor in a neighboring district. A foreshadowing of decision that I'd make nearly twenty years later, it was the first step in pursuing my dream of writing for publication.

Actually, it was my sister who suggested that I use my newfound day off to write. Aside from her family and her own writing, it was one of the best ideas she ever had.

At first, I wrote at the dining room table in our apartment. To call it a "dining room" is generous; our scarred table and chairs took up most of the space in the eating area off the kitchen, but there was enough room for me and my word processor. I wrote articles for magazines, submitting them (unsolicited) to editors and receiving many rejection letters, but the occasional acceptances I found in the daily (snail) mail were enough to sustain my enthusiasm.

We bought a house a few years later, and I turned the downstairs bedroom into an office. The decor was a throwback to the 1970s, but I had an entire room to myself. Our first computer, complete with dial-up Internet access, soon graced the desk, rendering my word processor obsolete.

Then came motherhood. Initially, my office became a dumping ground for all things deemed off-limits to a baby, but then, a few years later, we turned the room into a playroom. The desk was relegated to the basement, my books replaced by my daughter's books, my photos put aside as her artwork graced the walls. Finding writing time was hard, and while that bothered me a little, my writing time quickly became less important than my mommy time.

Eventually, we enclosed a side porch off the living room, a decision my daughter has still not completely forgiven me for. In so doing, we created a new office, one we all shared at first. Over time, the room became my writing space, although I probably wrote just as frequently in other places -- sometimes at Starbucks, but most often in the car, while waiting for my daughter to finish an activity. Those were the years that taught me how to write in small snippets of time.

The office has continued to evolve, and it's truly my space now, but being home alone on weekdays has made me more nomadic. Some days I write in the office, but I'm also likely to work in the living room, the playroom (now a man cave) or at my trusty standby, the dining room table. Other days, I go to Starbucks where I can get away from all the distractions of home, and I can work on only what I've packed in my bag.

The places have changed. The tools have changed. Even the genres have changed.

But the writing has remained constant.

Saturday Special: Organizing Tricks for Teachers

#3 (Buzzfeed.com)

On Thursday, I went onto campus and spent about an hour in my office checking emails and making to-do lists. My friends who teach have begun making forays back into their classrooms, preparing for the school year ahead. Some of them never really left.

So, in their honor, I'm sharing a great Buzzfeed post about organization ideas for teachers. Most are designed for elementary school teachers, but many will transfer to secondary and post-secondary staff, as well as parents, or anyone looking for ways to keep paper, pens and the like neat and corralled.

As for me, I'm going into my basement to retrieve what I need to make #19 a reality in my campus office.

Money and a Room of One's Own

amazon.com

When I retired from public education, I knew there would be things I wouldn't miss. Early morning meetings. Faculty meetings. Irrelevant inservices. (Are you sensing a theme?)

But it didn't take me long to realize that there's one thing I do miss: an office.

I also miss the people and the parts of the job I loved, of course, but I expected that. I didn't expect a small, cluttered room with hand-me-down furniture to leave a void.

At first, being able to work at home -- anywhere I wanted -- was exciting. Tired of sitting at a desk? Move to the sofa. Tired of the sofa? Relocate to the dining room table. Sick of the house, or just plain distracted? Head over to Starbucks.

The wardrobe was better, too. Well, not better quality or more professional -- just cheaper and more comfortable. Sweatshirts and pj bottoms were de rigeur and makeup was optional.

I'm not sure why it surprised me to discover that adjusting to this new lifestyle also required adjusting my perception of who I was. For 27 years, I'd been a professional educator and a semi-professional writer. My new work environment and wardrobe, though functional and comfortable, didn't feel like professional anything. And even though articles and books got written and edited, classes got planned and correspondence got sent -- all amid the comforts of home -- the lack of a traditional workspace, though romantic and freeing in theory, made the limbo created by an early retirement less gap than chasm.

A year into this adventure, I was hired as an adjunct professor, adding a new role to the midlife collage, and bringing with it an unexpected bonus.

Office hours.

zazzle.com

Once a week, for an hour, I pulled an office chair up to an L-shaped desk in a shared room with little to offer in the way of decor -- a far cry from the crazy quilt of animal prints and bright colors that had been my home base in an elementary school across town.

And I loved it.

Three semesters later, my course load has grown and with it, my office hours. I'm required to offer an hour for each course I teach, but I typically spend more time in the office than that. It's peaceful -- mostly -- and the academic atmosphere fills a void I didn't expect to have, but that -- once again -- shouldn't have surprised me. After all, you can take the counselor out of the school, but, apparently, you can't take the school out of the counselor.

At home, I'm working on making my office less haphazard and more of a true workspace. My Wednesday posts (and new blog) on organization have nudged me toward more efficiency, as well as more personalization.

If Virgina Woolf is right, and "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction," then I think, perhaps, I'm on the right track.