When you leave a place like Woodstock, you know that you never actually leave. One of my friends randomly met a Woodstock staff alumni on a work trip once during my first year at WS, and this is what he told her. "We couldn't wait to leave. Then we left, and my wife would have dreams of Woodstock. She'd wake up in the middle of the night and say, 'We have to go back.'"
Working at Woodstock consumes you entirely. When friends come to visit, they make quick and slightly annoyed observations about how much you talk about Woodstock. We talk about monkeys, mold, low pay, being cold, the crazy people we work with, monkeys, dogs, students, bun omelettes, and monkeys. When you live on a mountain that feels like a non-stop family reunion, it can get to you. You're surrounded with the drama and politics that a place so small often has. You're trying to survive in elements that are far from your comfort zone, and you are far from home. My time at Woodstock was not easy, but it was one of the most important experiences of my life.
On that same mountain of crazy, I met the love of my life. I made friends that struggled through and came out on the other side with me. I taught students that have confirmed my purpose in this troubled world. I was pushed to my limits physically, mentally, and emotionally. We left Woodstock for many reasons. Professionally and personally, it seemed like the right time to go.
Going back to visit Woodstock was a bizarre experience. Everything was so familiar. It was a place that I had been so purposeful in leaving and coming back seemed like admitting I shouldn't have left. Who leaves a place with such beauty? I was welcomed with chai and a fire at 7 AM by my amazing neighbors who continue to carry on the Oakland Getters name. I was swarmed with hugs and greetings from my students. It was all hailstorms and daisies. Then I began to chat with some of the staff, and I was soon reminded of why I left. Things seem to be the same or worse in most areas of professional concern at the school. People wanted to know about my new school. What's life like on the other side? I made some quick comparisons for the curious:
1. I really like my new school.
2. I am learning and growing professionally.
3. I make more money.
4. I don't love China or my city.
5. I don't love the pollution.
6. My life is easier.
7. My life is too easy.
For some people, easy is good. Easy is nice. Being back on the mountain, I was reminded of how difficult it is to walk to school through hail and rain. Taking a shower is a task that involves too many steps. Everything is more laborious and pioneer-esque. And I miss that sometimes. But not all of the time.
Woodstock will always hold a special place in my heart. I have made more dear friends at Woodstock than any other place or time in my life. It's home... and someday, maybe, we'll go home again.
Working at Woodstock consumes you entirely. When friends come to visit, they make quick and slightly annoyed observations about how much you talk about Woodstock. We talk about monkeys, mold, low pay, being cold, the crazy people we work with, monkeys, dogs, students, bun omelettes, and monkeys. When you live on a mountain that feels like a non-stop family reunion, it can get to you. You're surrounded with the drama and politics that a place so small often has. You're trying to survive in elements that are far from your comfort zone, and you are far from home. My time at Woodstock was not easy, but it was one of the most important experiences of my life.
On that same mountain of crazy, I met the love of my life. I made friends that struggled through and came out on the other side with me. I taught students that have confirmed my purpose in this troubled world. I was pushed to my limits physically, mentally, and emotionally. We left Woodstock for many reasons. Professionally and personally, it seemed like the right time to go.
Going back to visit Woodstock was a bizarre experience. Everything was so familiar. It was a place that I had been so purposeful in leaving and coming back seemed like admitting I shouldn't have left. Who leaves a place with such beauty? I was welcomed with chai and a fire at 7 AM by my amazing neighbors who continue to carry on the Oakland Getters name. I was swarmed with hugs and greetings from my students. It was all hailstorms and daisies. Then I began to chat with some of the staff, and I was soon reminded of why I left. Things seem to be the same or worse in most areas of professional concern at the school. People wanted to know about my new school. What's life like on the other side? I made some quick comparisons for the curious:
1. I really like my new school.
2. I am learning and growing professionally.
3. I make more money.
4. I don't love China or my city.
5. I don't love the pollution.
6. My life is easier.
7. My life is too easy.
For some people, easy is good. Easy is nice. Being back on the mountain, I was reminded of how difficult it is to walk to school through hail and rain. Taking a shower is a task that involves too many steps. Everything is more laborious and pioneer-esque. And I miss that sometimes. But not all of the time.
Woodstock will always hold a special place in my heart. I have made more dear friends at Woodstock than any other place or time in my life. It's home... and someday, maybe, we'll go home again.
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