I'm really glad they got that horoscope thing all cleared up a few weeks ago. As you may have done, I read the reports (or rather the rabid reactions to the reports, which first appeared in the Minneapolis Star Tribune) that the astrological signs we're used to are wrong. According to the alternative zodiac, I would not be an Aquarius, but a Capricorn, a sign as foreign to me as ancient Sanskrit and a lot less appealing. This is no disrespect to the Capricorns out there. But one becomes oddly attached to one's sign over the years, even if one doesn't give much credence to them, and you have to admit, Aquarius is a good one to have.
If I weren't an Aquarius, then I could no longer have Aquarius moments. This is the only way I can think of to describe (mostly in retrospect--I just thought about it this week) moments in my life when the most Aquarius parts of my personality collide with the big world out there. The result is often raised hackles (on my part) and abject bewilderment (on others' part) that far exceeds what would be reasonable for the given situation.
In almost any descriptor of Aquarii, the words idealistic, independent and intense pop up with some frequency, usually accompanied by phrases like strong convictions, place a high value on truth, and given to abstract intellectualizing. As overly general as they are, these phrases have a certain resonance that vibrates somewhere between 'pretty much accurate' and 'dead on' when applied to me, especially this week during my mid-year review at work.
This Aquarius moment can be put firmly in the category of "don't f#* with what's real." (Or places a high value on truth accompanied by both independent and intense). The long and short of it is this: I have yet to transfer my California credential to Texas. As a result, I received a substandard score on my review under the heading of "content knowledge."
Picture me in indignant tears, and my very wonderful assistant principal/supervisor absolutely flummoxed as she hastened to explain that it was a mere technicality and necessary according to the review rubric set out by the school. And though I heard what she was saying, the Aquarius in me was furious and hurt and tried to articulate that it wasn't the rating (who cares about the number), and it wasn't that I hadn't started the hoop-jumping to get my credential transferred (legit), but how dare they put it under the category of content knowledge? How dare they imply that I did not know my business, the very heart of what I do every day, which I love (and another part of the review rightly and gently reminded me to adopt perhaps a slightly less subject-specific focus whenever a schoolwide mindset would be apropos). Put it in any other category, but not that one. Never that one. And my AP, at a loss, because of all the reviews, mine was probably not the one she expected to be the very most dramatic, explained, yet again, and trying to be comforting, that no one actually thought I was "approaching expectations" in something I have already given three professional development sessions on this school year. She very much wanted me to 1) stop crying and 2) shrug and say, "Oh, I know. I don't doubt you or me for a second--and I will definitely get on that credential thing." Which I eventually did because that is the only way to deal with an Aquarius moment in polite company. But what I wanted to say was, "This is bigger than a number on a paper. You are f$#-ing with what's real. If we start letting technicalities mess with reality, who knows what will happen!" But to explain that I was upset because of my philosophical (and perhaps astrological) relationship with the truth--and not because it was a 2, would have been too hard and, let's face it, weird. So, I took my Aquarius self to yoga instead. Then had some ice cream.
I don't know if other signs have the equivalent of Aquarius moments, but I know that almost everyone is deeply attached to the truths that are in them, whatever they may be. Trying to figure out how to go forward with one's own when they knock up against the truths (or technicalities) of others is a big deal. People in power do this poorly, as a rule. Witness the current Congress. The thing is, it's important to keep thinking about how to do this well--and that's not just my Aquarius talking. (OK, it is my Aquarius talking, but it doesn't mean it's wrong!) When colliding truths affect others is when ALL the problems start, at every level of interaction, which is ultimately why I went to sweat for 90 minutes in a hot yoga room rather than march down to my principal's office. The truth in my review matters not at all in the grand scheme of things. The truth, though, of--just for example--the importance of writing instruction in the curriculum or (in a related matter) the academic wasteland that are standardized tests or whether or not anyone is going to stop talking about making public education better and start doing something other than slashing money for schools throughout the country--those are other questions entirely.
During my review, I was embarrassed, actually, because I've been thinking a lot about healthy ways of dealing with difference, especially since reading that article on moving closer to difficult experiences rather than stepping away--as is our instinct. (See the "Get a Little Closer" post from Nov. 21 for the link to the article.) I've been looking forward to tiptoeing near issues that scare/intimidate/challenge me and seeing how close I can get, imagining myself as an intrepid explorer and the issues as rare wild beasts. So much for my fantasies of zen tolerance. But I'll keep trying because the Aquarius in me knows that is surely must be possible. Someday. With enough practice. Right? Check the box marked idealistic and call it a day...
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