by Deborah Globus
Transitioning is hard.
Any kindergarten teacher worth their weight knows this. Moving between one activity and another, one time and another, takes time in and of itself.
That in-between time is called: transition.
Transition trips people up. Even this once kindergarten teacher who knows in her bones how vitally important it is to navigate transitions mindfully.
Any kindergarten teacher worth their weight knows this. Moving between one activity and another, one time and another, takes time in and of itself.
That in-between time is called: transition.
Transition trips people up. Even this once kindergarten teacher who knows in her bones how vitally important it is to navigate transitions mindfully.
It’s Tuesday. It’s snowing/raining/freezing/gross here in NY. Again. I lost yesterday to digging out our Excursion so I’d have a vehicle to get around in. I lost the weekend to the kids and familial activities. I lost the Thursday before that to (you guessed it) more weather.
Generally, I’m not resentful.
OK, maybe about the truck.
And the weather.
But working from home is meant to incorporate the kids and family, so that part is fine.
But here I am with a transition – from several days of not working, to having to reacquaint myself my writing and where I had planned to go with it.
The ghost of guilt is hovering around, reminding me somewhat cruelly that if I had kept working I wouldn’t be struggling with this transition.
Here’s the thing: you cannot rush through transition.
Any teacher can tell you the chaos that ensues when you try to rush kids into changing gears. Building in time for transition is one of the best ways to make a classroom - and life – run more smoothly.
Ritual is all about transition.
Ritual is the time in between time that is made for assessment and contemplation. It’s about looking at where you’ve been and moving into where you’re going.
So…deep breath. I’ll go light a candle. I’ll gather up my writing materials – all my countless pages scattered here and there across the coffee table, the kitchen counter, the desk in my office. I’ll carve out a time to be with them. I’ll make sure that that time doesn’t involve the expectation of doing, only the intention of BEing with it. And hopefully, within that carved out time I can gently move into work again.
Generally, I’m not resentful.
OK, maybe about the truck.
And the weather.
But working from home is meant to incorporate the kids and family, so that part is fine.
But here I am with a transition – from several days of not working, to having to reacquaint myself my writing and where I had planned to go with it.
The ghost of guilt is hovering around, reminding me somewhat cruelly that if I had kept working I wouldn’t be struggling with this transition.
Here’s the thing: you cannot rush through transition.
Any teacher can tell you the chaos that ensues when you try to rush kids into changing gears. Building in time for transition is one of the best ways to make a classroom - and life – run more smoothly.
Ritual is all about transition.
Ritual is the time in between time that is made for assessment and contemplation. It’s about looking at where you’ve been and moving into where you’re going.
So…deep breath. I’ll go light a candle. I’ll gather up my writing materials – all my countless pages scattered here and there across the coffee table, the kitchen counter, the desk in my office. I’ll carve out a time to be with them. I’ll make sure that that time doesn’t involve the expectation of doing, only the intention of BEing with it. And hopefully, within that carved out time I can gently move into work again.
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