See me. Hear me. Touch me. Heal me.

Forgive me for a longer-than-I-wish absence. I’ve been preoccupied with soul searching of late, the result of some things I’d rather not write about in this venue. (Becca and I ended our relationship a few weeks ago, and with substantial finality, but that’s all I’m writing here.) Some people can put it all out there; I 1) don’t desire to be that vulnerable in a general online broadcast, and 2) am not comfortable publishing things online that intimately involve other people. It seems disrespectful to write too frankly about someone else in such a public space. While I do these things in conversation or a personal letter, that takes place within the context of a specific relationship, not tossing words into the air for the wind to scatter.

I’m sure that there are entire blogs devoted to the ethics of blogging; not being a philosopher, and being content to do it my own way, I haven’t read one of them. Schopenhauer, while allegedly about how I go about “being in the world,” also is how I am in the world at any given moment. The less preoccupied I am with daily existence, the more time I have to think big thoughts, the better Schopenhauer does. If I were living in the Welling Townhouse, I’d call that meta-blogging. Since I’m not, I’ll call it life.

Here’s a bit more of life (this blog is about the mundane; is that the “drivel” of which Schopenhauer speaks?). My most popular post of all time is “See Me, Feel Me, Teach Me, Heal Me,” in which I lament subbing, my failure as a Pedicab driver, and express cautious anticipation about my internship at Three Lions Bakery. In this second Tommy-titled post, I revisit some of those issues.

First, by the numbers. I have now subbed the equivalent of 30 days in public schools in six school districts. These jobs have ranged from 1st grade to high school, from elementary phys ed to middle school science and chorus, to high school art. Once I started getting work, I promptly ceased to despair. While there is nothing remarkable about being a substitute teacher, it is rewarding work. I truly enjoy the range of students I am able to spend time with. For example, while I do not teaching elementary school would be sustainable for me, I treasure every minute with those young children, and my life is better for having the opportunity to spend time with them.

Also, to my surprise, I discovered that I not only love 7th and 8th graders, but I seem to work very well with that age group. The middle schooler’s I’ve met seem be, as a generalization, more excited about school and life than high school students, but more independent than elementary schoolers. (Though they have an obnoxious tendency to tattle.) So I am filling out the paperwork to add them to my license, and I am going to look hard for a job in a middle school. I even think I would prefer it to high school, at this point.

I desperately (though not urgently) need a full-time job. I miss the relationships that come with being a teacher – getting to know students and making friends with teachers. As a substitute, I never get to meet many of the teachers I work with. That’s why I’m there. And while I do see some students repeatedly, it is not frequently enough to really get to know them.

Portland is a hard town to make friends in, and I am partly counting on the colleagueship of a school (or any full-time workplace) to help me build a social network. I meet a lot of people I like, but I find it hard to make the leap from casual acquaintance to someone with whom I go out for a good time, or to whom I can vent or lend an ear. I would like to stay in Portland (although as a result of breaking up, I have a renewed desire to run away with the circus), but my ability to stay here is really dependent on my getting a job next school year.

One of the benefits of subbing is the many books, and three newspapers, I get to read. Without planning, I get to read on the MAX (light rail), which I ride to certain schools, during lunch, and sometimes if kids are taking tests. I also have time for idle pursuits such as bread baking, which has been giving me a great deal of satisfaction of late.

My internship at Three Lions ended some time ago, and I learned a butt-load, not only about bread baking, but also about what I like, and also about running a bakery. Which I am kind of considering as a second career if I ever decide I am done being a teacher. Baking is remarkable for its elegance: flour, water, salt, and single-celled organisms, plus heat makes bread, one of the simplest and most satisfying of human staples. “Simple Pleasures,” a name I came up with thinking about baking, was my first choice name for this blog, but the URL was already taken.

I am now baking all of my own bread, perfecting a few recipes (my favorites are a prefermented potato bread from The Foxfire Book and a 100% whole wheat oatmeal bread from The Laurel’s Kitchen Bread Book). I’m winging it a bit – I can’t make anything fancy because our oven’s thermostat broke and I have only a crude control of the temperature – but I find the act of creation bread represents very satisfying. I’ve turned various powders into something tangible, something that feels good, sustenance you can hold in your hand. Viva la bread. In some ways I wish I had more people to bake for, so I’d have an excuse to bake more often, experiment more, and learn even more about the art of baking breads. I need that practice, if I am ever going to open my own bakery. Sadly, dear reader, my bread is not something I can readily share with you. (Unless you live in Portland, in which case I would be happy to bake you a loaf.)

This post somehow seems less important than it’s predecessor, perhaps because it is less laden with despair. We like despair in our culture. We venerate it as essence of artist. We take it more seriously then joy, and certainly more seriously than ambivalence. I may feel tumultuous now, but I am not facing an existential crisis, so what I say now carries less weight than when a lack of sub work plunged me into self-doubt. Whatever. “Bring on the equilibrium” is my motto for this situation.