Dreaming

Not that you asked, but...
I lost the Mega Millions lottery recently. The winners up in the Pacific Northwest are as deserving as anyone, I'm sure, and I wish them the best. But I would so very much have liked to have had my numbers called (not that my odds of winning could be considered by any rational person as good). My mother laughed at me ("You didn't seriously expect to win, did you?" she asked, ignoring the fact that she gave me 2 bucks to buy her entry as well), but I received consolation at home. David was similarly disappointed that our delusions of gambling-based grandeur had once more come to naught. I play very rarely (there are ground rules: winnings must be over $100 million, for example), and I gamble a pittance for the chance at the jackpot. Nonetheless, I am guaranteed never to win if I never play. (I am also guaranteed to lose money and contribute to a host of serious problems if I play regularly and/or large amounts, but that is the subject of another blog, which you can get a glimpse of from the Freakonomics guys, or in this guy's blog post.)

I have ideas for how I might spend a mad money portion of any lottery win (I picture a swim spa and built-in storage EVERYWHERE; David has fantasized about a share in a private jet and early retirement funds). But it's not all fun and games. I also have definite plans for using a sizable portion of any windfall for a dream project: starting a fabulous school.

All my life I have been fixated on teaching and education. I played teacher as a child, making up rosters, seating and lesson plans, picking up old textbooks at the flea market to play with, grading pretend homework (this sort of play may have reflected my social weaknesses and control issues, most of which I like to think I've overcome). As I prepared to become a "real" teacher, I started imagining an ideal school (the teacher equivalent of the English major's novel-writing dream). I drew layouts for buildings and grounds, explored subjects outside my field for "best of" ideas, and have accumulated a library of books for students of all ages. Everywhere I go, I am struck by lesson ideas, field trip possibilities, and those basic but all-important teachable moments. I regularly reference "My School" in conversations.

I can apply much of this inspiration on my child, though no doubt he will get sick of Ms. Teacher Mom and the fun will wear off in the adolescent years (for him, not me). It inspired me to go back to school once more for a doctorate in education. I can also go back to classroom teaching, which I love. But I feel like I have a bigger calling. Call it megalomania or egotism, if you will; however, I do think I could create and sustain a kick-ass educational environment.

Lots of educators feel this way. The system of education in the United States has issues, partly because it's a huge, complex universe reflecting the free will imperfections of human nature and society. Ideas for running and/or reforming education are as numerous as the global population. And there exist great schools, teachers, and lessons, already out there, making a difference every single day. I honor all of that. But I still want to start my own school.

There is nothing stopping me from going out and starting a school today, you might point out. Very true. It's my dream that is stopping me, because I want it all. I want hands-on academics. I want mixed ages. I want fresh air and sterile labs. I want heart-pumping activity and I want quiet contemplation. I want a student-run coffee shop. I want proximity to population centers and public transportation. And I want affordability. With that, I will show you interested and involved students and families. With all that, I will show you capable minds, generous hearts, and a skilled, committed citizenry, ready to face the challenges of life. With all that, I would be living a dream.

Many people dream of winning the big prize, and many people dream up big ideas. I wonder sometimes if I have held onto my dreams for too long. Although sleep is restorative, it is when we are awake that things get done. Is it time for me to wake up?

New You

Have I been sucked in to the "new year's resolution" cult? Check back with me in a month.

Oh, and happy 2011!