In my apartment in Maracaibo, I have a box of memories I forgot to bring with me when I moved to Cairo. I have a few photos, plane tickets, and notes from past versions of me in it. There is also an old physics test I took in the 8th grade—the only school souvenir I held on to. The reasons why I kept that test changed over time. At first, I was proud of getting an A (or 20 points, which is how they grade in Venezuela), so I decided to save it. Then, as years went by and I decluttered the box, I chose to keep it because it reminded me of my ability to succeed in something I didn’t care much for but fully understood.
As I’ve expressed in many posts prior to this one, I never cared much about getting good grades in high school. That year though, something felt different in physics class. Somehow, I understood everything the teacher explained, and I didn’t need to memorize much to get it right. I remember thinking, “This is what Kelia and the others must feel during math and chemistry.”
On the day of that memorable test, I arrived early, as usual, to find Vivi and the others practicing. “What are you practicing for?” I asked. They gave me a look and responded, “Ana! El examen de fisica!” I shrugged and prepared for a disaster. When the test started, and I read the four problems I was meant to solve, I thought, “Wait, I know how to solve these.” Because I understood the logic and how the formulas worked, I got an A on a test I had not studied for. My luck didn’t last much, though. In the 9th grade, success didn’t come without discipline, and I had none.
That test became a symbol that, for a while, I didn’t fully understand. Whenever I looked at it, it reminded me of this notion of “knowing deeply”—Knowing something so well that anyone, at any moment, could ask me about it. And during college, that “knowing” grew. I felt it in my gut every time I had to give a presentation or defend a particular idea. Reading became joyful, and it felt nothing like studying. If I understood, then I knew.
I start with this story because that “knowing” has stayed with me for years. I don’t always feel it, but it makes an appearance when triggered by deep passion. For years now, I’ve been reading several books that feed it, and whenever I have to speak about topics I’m passionate about, that “knowing” comes out dancing. It’s come out on numerous occasions this year. And in June, it will face the ultimate test when I deliver a two-week professional development to my school’s staff.
I trust that “knowing.” I know it will answer the call. I just have to set the stage for it to do its thing and do it well.
So far, I’ve color-coded over a dozen chapters from several books, gathered notes across multiple notebooks (not very smart), and last night, I spent an hour choosing a color scheme for a slideshow—pretty wise use of my time, huh? There is something about colors and organization.
I know my “knowing” will show up on June 13th. I’ll dress up for it and hold its hand. I just have to make sure I’ve chosen the right playlist for it to dance with me.
So, as I’m now choosing to document this new process, I’ll start this first post with a Done list:
- Survey teachers (what do you need?)
- Study data and make some decisions
- Create a schedule and include key topics
- Organize topics based on teacher needs
- Gather information from books
- Make sense of the insane amount of post-its I’ve left in some of the books I’ve read
- Film a few videos
- Start a list for read-alouds
Notice how I’m ending the post without even thinking of what I still have to do? 🙂
Wish me luck.
Start with a Story 