And So It Begins?

And so it begins?  For the past four and a half years, I have periodically flirted with the notion of writing a blog.  I set up a blogger account back in 2009 but never quite followed through with posting or finishing, well, anything. When it comes to writing, I would best characterize myself as a slacker or quitter. I can still vividly recall the purple diary I bought with my own money from The Rainbow Shop when I was seven.  It had a lock with two keys to ensure no one could access my most private musings. I had every intention of recording all of my thoughts in my carefully, deliberate second grade cursive handwriting. However, my diary writing was short lived, and the pages remained mostly blank. Since second grade, I have attempted and failed to keep a journal on numerous occasions.  When I became an English major in college, my first and foremost passion was literature, and with the exception of my one writing class which enabled me to become a writing tutor at the Writing Center, I successfully avoided any kind of creative or personal writing.  While I can write and teach a pretty mean five paragraph essay, I've never had much confidence in my abilities to write about myself nor see myself as being clever enough to write a creative piece that doesn't seem trite or contrived.  I'm more than happy to share my thoughts on the character development of Lily Bart from The House of Mirth, but the development of my own character over the past thirty-six years has not impressed me as a terribly interesting topic.
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After graduating college, I taught high school English for eight years and decided to leave my career behind for six years, to stay at home with my beautiful, bright-eyed boys. I always loved being a teacher and knew my foray into being a stay-at-home mom would not be a permanent one for many reasons. This past fall, I was afforded the fortuitous opportunity to return to the teaching profession and decided the timing was right.  I was a little apprehensive about teaching middle school, but my apprehensions dissolved after my first day back in the front of the classroom. Five months have passed, and I grin from ear to ear when friends ask me how it feels to be back to teaching.  I love my job.  I love my students. I love working with people who love their job, which is true of so many of my co-workers.

However, the structure of my school is changing next year and yet another opportunity has presented itself.  I've decided to volunteer to take on a new teaching position that isn't quite clearly defined, but I do know I will be spending most of my time teaching my students to be better writers.  I, of course, am nervous about the unknown  but am open to new challenges and new experiences.  I have decided that part of my new challenge is to push myself out of my own personal comfort zone with writing.  I want to inspire my students to take risks, and I suppose I need to lead by example.  I don't know what direction I'm going, but I'm okay with that for right now.  

I'm setting a personal goal of writing one entry a week about myself, my family, my thoughts, and whatever else inspires, perplexes or challenges me through the end of the school year.  For this slacker, quitter writer that's a pretty big commitment.  

And so it begins.