I have come to value the moments of beautiful irony in my life--not the moments that Alanis Morissette referenced in her hit song in the late nineties, but those moments whose hands are gripped tightly around me, trying to destroy everything in sight yet eventually make me stronger, happier, more resilient in life. When I was 23 years old during my second year of teaching, one such moment occurred; I was asked by my first principal, Mr. John McGinty, to coach the high school debate team.
"Mr. McGinty, I know nothing about debate. I don't even like to argue." I found myself trying to find a reason or a way out while simultaneously desiring to make him proud.
"You'll be great," he said, with the infamous twinkle in his eye and smile on his face that he constantly wore. As an eternal optimist, he really believed that; I, however, could only see the irony of it all: I am the peacemaker, the person who never takes a side and who was now going to spend hours after school with students who actually enjoyed disagreement. I agreed to Mr. McGinty's request because I respected him and didn't want to let him down, because it was easier to just say yes. I taught during the day, coached track after school, and then several times a week in the early evenings, I would meet with the debate team. I learned a lot about argument, too much about my weaknesses, and a great deal about being patient with teenagers who thought they knew everything (Truth be told, the members of that team did know a lot--definitely a lot more about debate than I did).
Ultimately, this was a moment of beautiful irony. You see, I met my husband Chris through coaching debate. He coached at a neighboring school, and we started talking at a VHSL rules clinic for debate coaches early on in the year. At the time when Chris offered me a Sprite from the hospitality table, I had no idea that he actually was flirting with me. After all, who goes to a VHSL rules clinic for debate coaches to meet someone, especially the person you plan to spend the rest of your life with? Yet, that year as we spent many Saturdays together at debate tournaments, we got to know each other, and eventually, we began dating. Almost twenty years of marriage later, the rest is history and goes down as a moment of beautiful irony.
These moments of beautiful irony tend to creep up on us when we least expect them to. 2020 was no exception. Every year, I choose a word to serve as a goal for the new year. Last year, I chose the word "embrace" as my word of the year. Talk about moments of irony--I spent ten of the twelve months unable to embrace anyone due to Covid-19. Instead, I spent time disinfecting, wearing masks, and distancing six feet apart. I am a hugger. (I hate to argue, remember?) I know many people struggling by the limitations of Covid-19; the hardest for me has been the lack of hugs. Yet, my word was not a complete failure despite its presumed irony. My goal last year was not just to physically embrace others but to embrace new situations. And that, I think, I actually did fulfill.
Covid gave me a chance to reflect--a lot. Covid humbled me as a teacher. I don't know too many people who show up to work every day, working as hard as they can, even though they know that they are not going to do a good job or as good of a job as they do in a "normal" year. Teaching synchronously is definitely one of the hardest experiences I've had in teaching, but it's also humbling. I've tried new things this year from a basketball competition to eating outside with my students to embracing all sorts of microphones and video appearances. In my personal life, I've baked new recipes. I've run a half marathon virtually. I cut my son's hair (a never-again experience) and we've had a lot more family dinners. I'm not as afraid anymore to express what I think, especially in my writing. I've embraced a lot--we all have--and I'm stronger because of it. We all are. Talk about beautiful irony.
So when I had to choose a word for this year, I was stumped. My word from last year--a seemingly epic failure of ironic proportions--actually became a way to live life. This year, I wanted a word that showed positivity and hope, one that would present a challenge for me and maybe a similar moment of beautiful irony. I went through words like rise, worth, shine, glitter, hope, grace, thrive, leap, smile, laugh, confidence, legacy, reach, but none seemed to be speaking out to me. So this year, I settled on "yet." You may be thinking, yet is hardly a word. Yes, this word is often overlooked, yet more frequently used than you think (See how I used it there?). Yet represents possibilities. Yet signifies eventually and at some future time. Yet means in addition. Yet changes a mindset. As a conjunction, yet blends sentences together to change the direction--to often create beautiful irony.
So for me, yet is the word I am embracing in 2021:
I haven't gotten a Covid-19 vaccine yet.
Things may be challenging as a teacher, yet I am learning so much.
I won't give up yet--on myself, on my students, on our society that is often plagued by polarized views.
There are so many incredible moments--moments of beautiful irony--I have yet to see unless I allow myself to see them, allow myself to experience them, to laugh and grow with others.
I'm no longer a debate coach, yet I've learned to embrace some of the moments in life that might make me feel a little uncomfortable. Such moments have created a beautiful irony. I often think about what life would be like had I not said yes to Mr. McGinty's request to coach debate over twenty years ago. What a hand he indirectly has played in my life. What a moment of beautiful irony he created! (If I haven't said it yet, thank you, Mr. McGinty!)
2020 brought us a world of frustration, of sorrow, a world without hugs and with a whole lot of distance. I miss my family and friends. I miss the casual smiles I see from strangers in the grocery store. I miss the hugs and high fives in my classroom. I've had friends and family who have struggled through this virus and some who are still struggling. Yet is the word that is going to pull us through in 2021. Yet is going to turn our "I can't" moments into "I can't yet." Yet is possibilities and growth. We may be struggling right now, however, the best is yet to come. And that, my friends, is beautiful irony.
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| Nine Photos to Capture 2020 |
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