History

Last week I spent a little time in therapy...I mean, painting. I think one thing that relaxes me almost as much as a good pedicure is painting stuff. While I paint, I let all my problems just play over and over in my mind...sometimes working themselves out, sometimes not. But as I paint, I relax, and sometimes I become much more rational and, well, sane by the time the last coat is applied. I like to paint things that I won't have to stare at all the time--all I do then is search for the mistakes and that's not therapeutic at all--but I've done rocking chairs, shelves, and the other day I did a chalk tray for Jackson and Sadie's play room.

But it wasn't just any old chalk tray. It was a part of my history.

A couple of years ago, my hometown overwhelmingly voted to begin a construction project within our school district. I was thrilled at the idea of progress in our sleepy little town. New buildings with new technology and security and gadgets and other cool tidbits. But alas, with progress comes change, and part of the change was to demolish a couple of the older--less structurally sound--buildings.

Namely, the building I spent fifth grade in. (You should sigh here. I do.)

If you are from Van, you know that the buildings I'm talking about aren't just brick and mortar bread boxes. They are classic. Elegant. To me, the older buildings are literally standing memorials to a kinder, gentler time. One that paid attention to detail. One that didn't necessarily think functional was code for "ugly." As a kid, I believed our junior high (the one I attended--not the one I teach in--which is also referred to as the "old high school" or the intermediate school...depending on your age and your audience!) was the most beautiful school around. I assumed every district's administration building looked like an old southern mansion--and I felt quite sorry for them when I realized most superintendents actually had to report to an office building every day.

As an adult, I understand the need for change. For progress. And I love that my alma mater has always stressed moving forward while still preserving tradition. It is often a precarious dance. But the fact that they don't just jump to "out with the old, in with the new" without really thinking it through makes me proud. Do I love that my kids will go to school in the very same buildings I went to school in? More than you know. Do I also love that they will go to school in brand-spanking new buildings too? Yep. And I love, more than words can express, that a part of our shared history will reside in our home from now on.

Old is not bad. Neither is new. And finding a comfortable combination of the two is really, really good.