Metamorphosis

It was a blazing hot day back in 2009. The truck was loaded up with all of my belongings that I would need for college. Dorm supplies filled the trunk of my car and tissues filled the pockets of my mother's shorts, heaven forbid I be away from her for more than one day. (Love you, Mom.)

I walked into this giant building bustling with people: students, siblings, parents, grandparents. I entered my new home, a small room with two beds and a wall lined with shelves and two desks. On the opposite wall were two small closets, a tiny sink, and a door leading to the suite through the bathroom. There, I met my two new suite-mates. We unloaded my life into my little room, and then Mom and Robert took me shopping for the essentials: groceries that could be eaten in a dorm room, a shower head that would actually spray more than a cup of water per minute, and cleaning supplies because I was going to "clean every weekend".

Mom and Robert went back home and college started. My roommate and my suite-mates joined me at a party. I remember walking around with all of these people that I didn't know and thinking, "Ah, college. This is my life now". Little did I know, I was going to be an Art Major. I had no life. I spent late nights in the common area with the other Arty Fartsies doing our homework and our projects. It was the pits.

I realized I didn't belong in the Art Department, so I changed my major. Then, I got to have a "college life". We went to parties, we took trips, we stayed up past our bed times. It was joyous. (We also paid the price with dark circles under our eyes, mornings hunched over toilets, and full days of wearing sunglasses and headphones to muffle the noises and dim the lights.)

It didn't change much when I moved into my new apartment. We had parties at our place, met lots of new people, and went on adventures. The most memorable one is probably when we tried to venture to Walmart to get groceries during the Icepocolypse of 2011. A week cooped up inside was far too long. Carson drove her jeep and we got stuck on Bonnie Brae about a block from the complex. We ended up pushing the jeep across the street into the Women's Center parking lot BY OURSELVES as men drove by and waved. Four girls in pretty colored scarves, gloves, and rain boots slipping and sliding on the ice as they push a jeep. You can imagine, I'm sure. So we trekked back, stopping at the gas station for as many "creative items" as we could to try to prepare a meal together.

Basically, we ate Cheetos and candy for a week...

Throughout the next year or so, I enjoyed (for the most) the life of a typical college kid. Then things started to change. Things inside of me. I grew up, for some unknown reason, and didn't want to go to the bars. I didn't want to go to parties. I liked hanging out with my friends, but I didn't want to do the "college things" I did before. My life became homework, dinner with friends, a night out dancing and playing pool at Red River, having game nights at the house. I was absolutely content with it. It became my life. I had amazing friends that were always there for me when I needed them. I also had the friends that were not there anymore because I was not at the bars and the parties that they were at.

Why do we have a "college phase"? I hear people say "I don't do the bar thing anymore" all the time. Shoot, I've said it too. I like going to get some drinks with friends every once in a while. I like going and listening to live music. But, I'm not a fan of these overly crowded places filled with smoke and drunks. Is there a switch inside of us that gets flipped? Honestly, I miss the spontaneous, free, do-what-I-want times. But, then again, I love the relaxing, quiet, watch-a-movie-at-home times.

Now my life is grading papers, making lesson plans, rubbing icy hot on my neck and shoulders, and going to happy hour with my coworkers after a long day. And even on those happy-hour days, I'm home and in bed before late. When I think about it, sometimes I feel so old. I feel alone. I miss going out with my friends and staying up late. I miss feeling over-scheduled with fun things. I don't get the invitations like I used to. I guess people "know" what I'm doing already. I like coming home from work and putting on my sweats, laying on the couch, vegging out for a few minutes, and letting my mind slow down. I like the occasional night out, too.

Growing up is a strange thing. Suddenly, you have all of these responsibilities to remember. You have to pay bills, you have to go to work to get money to pay the bills, you have to monitor the bank account that has the money you use to pay your bills. Can you tell I have lots of bills?

You watch your friends move away and get jobs, or get married, or have kids. And you sit back, watching your life change, and wonder what's next. I feel like my life has become very mundane. I'm taking huge steps for my life. I know that. But I still feel like I'm running and running and running, but I can't catch up to where I want to be. I miss "the old days". (Yeah, yeah. My old days weren't that long ago. Blah blah blah. I've heard it before.) I want to try to find a balance. I want some of the old days and some of the new days to come.

I just watched my best friend bring a baby into the world. It's crazy. We used to have spontaneous adventures, go to random concerts, meet for a random happy hour because…we "needed it". Those days are going to be much fewer and further between; I'm okay with that. Now our days will be something much different. Maybe wine in the living room while baby snores in the room next to us. But I can't help but wonder when I'll "catch up" to my friends. Their lives have slowed down because of jobs, husbands, children. I don't need any of those right now. But it would be nice to see that I'm on the path to that. Right now, I'm in limbo. I'm in between. And I'm hanging on for this wild (not-so-wild) ride.

Not goodbye; just see you later.

I have been surround by and lifted up by so much support this last week. My heart is overflowing. That's probably why this watery stuff has been coming out of my eyes all day. There's just nowhere left for it to go.

It's strange to say that it feels good that everyone is so sad to see me go, but it does! I had never felt wanted and accepted the way that my Rockbrook Bears made me feel. To walk in every morning to a "good morning" and a smile, to be greeted by littles and bigs alike with giant hugs and "I missed you"s, there is nothing quite like it. Walking through that building today was so surreal.

The idea of not coming back to wander those halls is heartbreaking. Not having to walk from my far corner of the building to the lounge 100 times a day makes me sad. Not getting to go down the hall to Mary and Becky's room or to stop by Staci's for some coffee and BioFreeze makes me sad. Not being able to walk in to Diane's smile every morning makes me not want to leave. I will miss SO many things about this family and this home.

I know it's a new chapter, but in all honestly, it feels more like a new book. I don't want to put this book down. It has made me feel emotions I never thought I could feel. It has made me think in ways that I have never thought before. It has caused me to solve problems that I never wanted to face. This book has been the best one I've read so far. I won't put it down for long. I'll set it safely on my shelf so that I can turn to it when I need a good reminder of what a family, a cohesive staff, a friend, a good teacher, or a partner in crime looks like. I'll turn to it when I need to remember why I have chosen this life. I will turn to it when I need to see the differences I have already made in some students' lives so that I can be pushed to make it happen again and again.

I have been blessed with great jobs and wonderful friendships over the years. Some of my best friends are people I met through a job. So here I am, once again, facing reality. I have to leave. Things have to change.

Two years ago, when I decided to start substitute teaching and pursuing my secondary certification and Masters of Education, I could have never dreamed of what life had in store for me. I worked at so many schools. I fell in love with school environments, faculty, and students. I had created these relationships and these bonds that I cherished. I spent most of my time among two elementary schools and one high school. I loved being at the high school because, ultimately, that's where I wanted to end up. But these two elementary schools had a special place in my heart.

I had formed bonds with the students in these schools. They made me smile every day; they hugged me as I passed in the hallways; they would yell out "hey Ms. Miller!!" as I passed by. There were even kids that knew my name who, I'm pretty sure, I had never met! What could possibly make you feel more special than being wanted and being loved. I applied for a position at one of the elementary schools and, stupidly, placed all of my hope in that idea. When it fell through, I was so disappointed. I had begun to build up that idea in my head: what it would be like to stay at that school every day with the teachers and the students I had grown so close to.

The day after I found out I did not get that job, I walked into the other elementary school to substitute for the day. I was very frustrated and let down that the job had fallen through. As I walked through the office doors that morning, the principal stopped me and asked to speak to me. The tone in her voice kind of freaked me out. I'm not a mean teacher, but I don't put up with any crap. So when she pulled me aside, I thought for sure I had done something wrong.

She offered me a job….

I accepted on the spot. There was no question. I would get to be at the other school that I had fallen in love with. They made me feel like a family every time I walked in the doors. Things moved so quickly from there. I was placed with teachers to help get me started, I attended trainings, I became part of a team (technically two teams). I fell in love with the staff. I felt like I had a family in that building every morning when I walked in. My students were my special little ducklings. I took care of them, I loved them, I strived for nothing but the best for them.

So here I sit, over a year later, looking back at how wonderful things have been. I have made so many amazing friends. I have learned so many valuable skills. I have created some incredible memories that I could never let go of.

Tonight my heart is overflowing with joy and sadness.

I love you, Rockbrook Bears. I'm so very excited for my new journey. But just remember: once a Bear, always a Bear!