Lucky

Only two students showed up for class again last night. I'm trying not to take it personally. It is the holiday season, after all, and people are understandably busy. And the low turnout justified my lack of lesson planning.

The three of us had a lovely conversation, however. We moved deftly from discussing the English learner website I had forwarded to them, to hearing about Van's latest strategy for taming her acne breakouts, then on to a free-spirited comparison of movie styles we like. Along the way, Regina and I learned that Van has been sort-of seeing a young Vietnamese man via Skype, though she is reluctant to label their interactions as dating. We two married ladies offered our advice and wisdom on communicating with reticent men, as well as the truth behind the axiom that opposites attract. Van remained ambiguous about the possibility of a satisfying long-term relationship, especially with a Vietnamese man, because of the tradition of the daughter-in-law becoming more or less a slave to her mother-in-law.

That set off a whole discussion about in-laws. I tried to remain diplomatic and pragmatic. I have issues with my own mother-in-law, of course, but I also understand how lucky I am overall in the in-laws department.  My mother-in-law's garden-variety crazy causes no more than the occasional frustrating misunderstanding, and we have no reason to battle over parenting styles. I could have it so much worse.

There was much laughter among us ladies in the little conference room of Project Learn last night. It was the first class that really felt like friends catching up, rather than a teacher giving a lesson.

Regardless, I am grateful to have a break from this Thursday night obligation. In fact, I'm grateful to have a break from all of my obligations for the next few weeks. How many adults get that? 

Once again, I realize how lucky I am.

Being a student for the past eight years, I have become accustomed to the rhythm of the scholastic calendar. I measure a year by semesters, rather than months or seasons. All I have to do is remember which class I was in and which books I was reading or writing about to tell you exactly how my life was for a particular spring or fall since 2005. As for summers, they are catalogued as undergrad (sub-categories: physics, statistics, literature classes, semester abroad), post-graduation (celebratory trip to France), and graduate years (one basking blissfully at a friend's pool, two writing or re-writing thesis work). Spring break and winter break serve as meaningful punctuation, the proverbial semi-colons of my scholastic career.

This year, I am reflecting on what it means to have a terminal degree (is it really the end?), counting up my many blessings (thank you, dear husband), and focusing on being grateful for my wonderful life.

So what if only two people showed up for class last night? That's two smart, interesting ladies who chose to spend their evening talking with me. I am one lucky duck.