A Giddy Gal's Passion

When I was in junior high, I was in love with Ben. I would get dressed in the morning daydreaming about Ben, dark-haired dreamy Ben. At school, I memorized his traveling patterns; my English class was next to his science class. Our lunch hours overlapped, each day I entered the cafeteria I was able to adore him from afar. It brought pure joy and excitement to my day to see his sparkling eyes. Sadly, these feelings are not a regular part of my 41 year old life. On a rare occasion, when my mate shows up in an unexpected location (like work), my heart does a quick little flutter. But, it’s just not quite the same as those adolescent years.

Earlier this month, I had the good fortune of being able to attend a three day annual literacy conference in the Denver metro area. It was a rare opportunity to immerse myself in my role as an educator. I spent my days listening to well-known authors, taking notes, and talking with fellow educators about educational topics. Now, for those of you who do not live this life, you may be thinking – BORING!

Do not be fooled by my brief brochure description, at times it looked more like a scene from junior high rather than a professional learning environment. Instead of a cute little twelve year old boy named Ben, it was educational authors. As I filed into the hotel, I looked like a respectable teacher prepared to learn and grow as an educator; but the reality was that I was two steps shy of leg-warmers, big hair and shoulder pads. On the first day of the conference I picked up my packet of information and headed into the banquet hall. My friends had saved me a seat at the cool table. After settling in I began scanning the room for the authors. I leaned over to my friend and had a conversation that sounded a bit like this:

                “Oh my goodness, there she is!” (followed by squeals of delight)

                “Where?”

                “Over there!” (Pointing as subtly as possible)

                “You’re right! I can’t believe she’s two tables away from us. This is soooo cool!”

I think at times my internal world tipped from junior high school to more of a junior high student at a beloved rock concert. You know, the little girls in the front row hysterically jumping up and down, screaming and crying, mumbling unintelligible words of love and admiration. That was me.

On Friday morning I attended a session that was conducted by author, Penny Kittle, who has professionally and personally inspired me. During the summer, I read her book cover to cover, and often reread bits to help jump start my own writing. I arrived at her workshop early and chose a seat in the third row. Not the first row, I didn’t want to look like a fanatic. Just like junior high, I was trying to appear calm and “normal.”

As I took my seat she was setting up her presentation and chatting with those of us who were seated near her. I introduced myself – “Hi, my name is Natalie. It’s so nice to meet you.”

My internal greeting went more like this:

“OMG…Hi…I’m a huge fan… I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you…Can I have your autograph?...Oh quick, could I take your picture?..Would mind posing one more time so I could be in the picture with you?...OMG – my friends will never believe that I talked to you…they are going to be soooo jealous!!”

Once she started speaking my excitement was barely containable. Her words were empowering, she affirmed my beliefs about literacy and good literacy instruction. Her passion fueled my passion. When her session was finished, I was overcome with emotion – I hit the tipping point and had fully embraced my inner groupie. My internal self was crying and hugging her, screaming unintelligible words of affirmation and adoration. Fortunately, I had enough sense to quietly exit before my internal drama came flying out slamming into her and everyone else within a fifty foot radius. However, I was so filled with such unexpected delight and excitement that one point I actually waved, with reckless abandonment at two authors, “The Sisters” – I had lost myself in the moment and forgot that they didn’t actually know me.

It’s fun to be twelve. Even if but for a moment.

Honestly, it’s not so much about being twelve, but rather about being forty-one and able to fully embracing my passion. It’s about delighting in the fact that I am a giddy gal in love with writers. Those feelings of anticipation may not come as often as they did back in the day, so when they do you gotta sink in and savor the moment.