July 2013...I guess this is really happening.

We're moving. To Morris.  In about two weeks.

There, I've said it; that makes it official, doesn't it?  We've talked about moving for years now, and I always seem to think about moving like 30-somethings think about retirement.  It's wistful and dreamy, with that little cloudy fog around the edge of my daydream, the sun shines on a lake somewhere, and my friends are walking their golden retriever while they laugh their way onto my porch.  In my head, it's idealized, comfortable and lovely.  However, in reality, it kinda sucks.

I know that people move all the time.  I know that we are not different from others who have moved their families across town, across state lines or across the country.  I know that there is nothing easy about boxing up the life you know and packing it up for the unexpected.  I know that emotions are looming large as the closets become emptier and our comfort zone is stripped of its charm.  I know that people move all the time, I know, I know, I know...

To be fair, I AM in on this whole "moving thing"...Kev's certainly not whisking me away against my will, so understand that I'm excited and anticipating what is to come.  However, I'm in the middle of what my friend, Jen, would call "The Sads."  In fact, I sat down to type this with a light-hearted, airy tone about being eager for our next adventure and looking forward to whatever comes our way.  Then I started to type and my unfiltered heart poured onto this page.

Quite frankly, I'm overwhelmed, in a really good way.  Namely, I'm shocked that this is really going to happen.  In June, shortly after Kevin mentioned the potential new place, Nora and I ran into our friends Katie and Gerard.  While chatting, I mentioned that we were working on finally making the move before the summer was over.  I remember an internal eye-roll and telling myself that it would be an absolute miracle if we got our lives together enough to make that happen before the end of the summer...we've been talking about it for years...and years...and years.  Yet, here we are, tip-toeing into August with boxes packed, children registered and fingers crossed.  Absolutely overwhelmed...apparently we're growing in our ability to get our lives together -- it's about damn time.

There will certainly be a few trade-offs once this move is official.  Namely, the length of my commute, and I will say it here so everyone can know that I understand that the commute will not be fun...especially because I-80 is my main route...especially in the winter.  It seems that everyone wants to weigh in on the absolutely awful nature of my daily commute.  Yes, it will suck.  Thank you for reminding me (remember, I'm a bit unfiltered right now).

My heart is heaviest for my little girl right now, as she is torn between the loss of the little world she's built in Manhattan and the excitement over a new bedroom and new friends at a new school.  She has been having daily crying spells, which she calls "meltdowns" once she's recovered from them...it is remarkable how quickly they come upon her and I'm also impressed by how quickly she recovers.  She's tough, resilient and a really awesome kid...no matter where she lives that's not going to change.  CJ, on the other hand, just doesn't get it.  "Ugh, I wish we moved already!"  When I explain that we need time to pack our things for the new house, he replies with legitimate exasperation and tells me that we can just use the clothes, toys and soap that are already at the new house.  Pure innocence, and I love it.

So, yes.  The Bogards are moving, and despite much of what I wrote above, we are all pretty excited about it.  We're excited about Morris, for a lot of reasons.  We have a church there, and I am looking forward to calling it "Our Church."  We love the river, and can easily walk to it from our new home.  The kids already have favorite restaurants: Faith = Bellacino's, Connor = Corleone's.  Daddy will be working close to home, and we're all very happy about that.  We already know two sets of neighbors, and they're lovely people, who I'm sure will lend us a cup of sugar if we need one.  Faith is already looking forward to her first date, "I think it's going to be at the Sandlot" {Heaven help us}.  And we're going to have a lovely front porch...and it's like the porch in my retirement daydreams -- begging for a porch swing, morning coffee, friendly laughter and easy conversations with those we love.

The Readiness Is All.

One of the most memorable college "lessons" I ever learned was taught to me by Dr. Kelly Norman Ellis in my Women's Voices course at Chicago State University.  I don't remember much about the titles we read, nor do I remember the papers I wrote.  I do, however, remember that the class was held at 3:30 p.m., following tennis practice...which meant that I was perpetually exhausted.  I often wish I could have a re-do in that class because I knew that Dr. Ellis was an amazing woman, poet, teacher...vibrant, exciting, passionate and honest.

This "lesson" came on the day that we were having our wrap-up discussion about Jane Eyre, a novel that I had barely pretended to read.  In fact, I barely even watched the movie I rented.  In high school, I read the books...for the most part...or at least three-quarters of each novel assigned...okay, okay, maybe half.  Yet, I always managed to find a way to work through the discussions and essays and get A's in most of my English classes.  In college, I read -- a lot -- mostly because I had learned that faking my way through was a lot harder than actually reading the darn book.  Yet, for some reason, I decided to not even fake my way through Jane Eyre.  Didn't even try.  Still, to this day, I don't know much about it...except there might be a lady in the attic?  Or maybe that was Emily Dickinson?  Either way, I digress. 

I can still imagine the wave of self-induced shame that crept up on me that day in Dr. Ellis' class.  I was tired, the room hot.  A handful of people had read it; most had not.  After a few too many empty stares and shallow answers,  my sense of guilt intensified and the room grew hotter still.  The professor let the tension build and finally allowed the responsible students run with the discussion.  I dutifully took notes and promised myself that I might think about reading Jane Eyre someday.  It was in that moment that Dr. Ellis shared her Jane Eyre reading experience with us...I don't remember the details (though I wish I did), but I do remember that she had tried reading it several times before it stuck.  She explained that sometimes readers are just not ready for the texts that are placed in front of them.  It doesn't mean they are exempt from the expectations of the course or the teacher, it just means that they are not truly ready to experience the text for what it's worth.  That idea made me take pause because at the time, I was taking an algebra class that, for the first time in my life, made sense to me; the class covered the same concepts I had struggled with the year before, but I was now getting B's without hours of frustration.  Could it be possible that I was just finally ready to learn math?  And someday I'd be ready for Jane Eyre?

It's an idea that is ever-present in my classroom and my day-to-day lesson planning, and I think of Dr. Ellis and that moment often.  My students might not be ready for this today, but they may be tomorrow (or next quarter, semester, year).  That doesn't mean they are exempt from the expectations of the course or the teacher, it just means they're not ready YET.

So what?  Why all this talk about reading readiness in the middle of the summer without any students to speak of?  Well, because I'm reading Othello, and I'm ready for it.  Have I read it before?  Yes, three times.  Do I know what it's about?  Yes, deception, lust, ambition...what most of Shakespeare is centered around.  But this time it's so, so different.  I decided I to reread Othello when I was surrounded by uber-pretentious teachers at my June AP Summer Institute...mostly because some of them said it wasn't worth teaching because it was "too accessible to the student."  Huh, too accessible, you say?  I thought that was the point...especially with Shakespeare.  No?

So, as I drove home on the last day of the Institute, I bought myself a new copy of Othello with oodles of text notes and several lofty essays about how to access the language of the play.  Then, when I knew the kids were sleeping soundly, I grabbed a pen and a highlighter and I read it "from scratch" with the goal of simply knowing and understanding the text in a clearer, more precise way.  And, the best part is that I have learned that I am ready for it now...and I love that.  I'm transfixed by Shakespeare's words, and since I'm reading it for pleasure and understanding, I can take my time and dive into the footnotes, ask questions, use a dictionary and carefully annotate the text.  This time the characters are more developed and interesting to me.  Iago is more vile than ever; Desdemona's defiance seems to be made of equal parts passion and head-strong disobedience, and I am noticing Othello's vulnerability at every turn.  I've only just finished Act I; perhaps I'll finish soon, or maybe it will be next quarter...semester...year.  However, so far, my marginalia is lovely and my understanding is ten times more perceptive than it was the last time I despised Iago; and that is exciting...because I now know that I am ready.