Where the Wild Things Are

I recently viewed the trailer for the movie Where the Wild Things Are. It connected with my present mood so I'm using it to launch my train of thought. For those of you who don't know, Where the Wild Things Are is a classic children's book by Maurice Sendek. I don't remember the plot of the book so much as the pictures of the shaggy mischievous beasts that live in a young boy's refuge of a forest. The trailer captures a child disappointed by reality and finding a place filled with the possibilities of freedom and hope and adventure and all those good things (all set to the song "Wake Up" by the Arcade Fire, one of my favorites). So why does it resonate with me? I think it has something to do with what I wrote a few posts ago, about living in a time of opportunity and possibility. It also has something to do with my admiration for childlike innocence, for hoping and dreaming and transcending. For wanting to live in a place where you can sing as loud as you want, run as fast as you can, sail to secret places, laugh the entire night through.



I guess I'm thinking about growing up. It's something that unavoidably (and thankfully) has happened to me over the course of the year as a teacher. I love that I can handle the responsibility of being there every day for such a wonderful group of students. Even more I love that the experience hasn't hardened me or made me too much of an adult. The work is intense and constant. Imagine having to give four big presentations every day of the week. That's what I do. The experience isn't all that different from being a high schooler in terms of the homework and having to be on top of things every single day. The big difference is that if you don't bring your A-game as a student, you're the only person that suffers. 90 other people suffer when I don't bring my A-game to school. It's daunting now that I think about it. I'd rather think about possibilities and dreams and hope and where the wild things are.

I want to become responsible, learned, and respected, but I don't want to forsake naivete, silliness, and wide-eyed wonder. They're certainly not mutually exclusive. This Friday I had the opportunity to indulge in the dreamer in me, and it felt like home. Right now I'm going to sing, at the top of my lungs. Then I'm going to run as fast as I can. Then I'm going to sit down and grade tests and write lesson plans for 4 hours. I like growing up.