I’m home, thank heaven, but I’m thinking of going on hiatus from teaching for a bit.
After I fulfill my current obligations, I don’t think I’ll be taking any more classes on for a while. Time off is needed. I’m feeling quite raw.
Different shops and areas seem to have different personalities. This was my first time in Kansas City (which was lovely), my first time teaching in Missouri (also lovely, very green). The folks were very nice, the classes seemed to be well received. The shop – Studio Knitting & Needlework – was filled with a lovely selection of all kinds of good yarns and needlepoint accessories.
But I had the nagging feeling that no matter what I said, it was going to be the wrong thing. I knew this came from inside of me, but it just felt so hard to get smiles from some knitters. I couldn’t seem to put a foot right, I felt like I was failing miserably. It had to be me, (it must BE me), and I’m afraid unable to figure out how to be other than I am.
So with all of this soul searching all weekend – especially on the flight home – I came home to find an email telling me that I had failed as miserably as I feared.
I’ve seldom felt that any word, any movement, any comment I made in class might be offensive to someone – but it felt that way this weekend. Damn.
Whether this was just me (most likely), or circumstances, or the weather, or whatever, I don’t know. It was an odd feeling, as though I were invading someone else’s space. It’s a wretched feeling.