It’s tough to stand up after sitting for a long time. You can ask just about any student, and I’m sure you remember those good ole days of wooden desks and splintered butts. By the end of the day, you’ve almost forgotten what that whole standing thing is all about. You begin to wonder; are we still doing that here in the US, or is that something that Canada has picked up on now, so it’s time to move on?
I’m sure it’ll come as no shock to an intelligent person like yourself that life consists of seasons – and not just the different types of flavorings we put on our food to not actually be able to taste our food. There are times of joy and laughter; yet, there are the moments of tears and sorrow. There is time to eat pizza, but also a time to refrigerate pizza so you can eat it for breakfast. There is a time to party like it’s 1999, and a time to realize that there really has to be more moves out there than just the sprinkler (Even though, we really need to be honest here, the sprinkler is pretty cool.).
Now, what do seasons and sitting have in common? When I was a freshman in high school, I was a baseball superstar. And when I say superstar, I mean I was the back-up right fielder. Right field is the spot where pretty much nobody hits the ball. That’s where you tend to put your weakest player (Sorry to break it to you if you’re a right fielder and are just finding out. We have Right Fielder’s Anonymous meetings every other Thursday). And that’s the spot that I couldn’t even work my way up to playing in. Instead, I got the privilege of figuring out how to sit in the dugout.
Don’t belittle this important life skill. It’s pretty tough having to sit on those metal benches all game. You have to work out just the right way to shift your weight so as not to get bleacher butt – while also trying to not look like you’re just sitting there scratching your butt. Trust me, not as easy as it sounds. But forget about hitting and fielding, those things that apparently mattered a great deal to my coach, I was worried about the pain in my derriere. (I may have just discovered why I didn’t play too much.) As you may have picked up, I was not the most skilled baseball player, but at least I was willing to put myself out there. I kept showing up. And for that I may not have been rewarded with All-Star trophies and game-winning baseballs (I did get one baseball, but it was one I used to peg a kid in the eye when they put me in as pitcher. I didn’t do it on purpose, and I blame the coach. Hey, I couldn’t even play right field; who in their right mind would have me pitching??), but I learned a valuable lesson. When the season is done, dust yourself off (dugouts are pretty nasty) and get to it.
Seasons aren’t permanent. (Thank goodness, cause I’m about to throw a rock at the bird keeps singing outside my window.) But they do prepare us for the seasons that are coming down the road, and we don’t always recognize that. I thought I was going to be the next big thing in baseball; instead I learned how to sit for long hours at a time, with only a mitt and a baseball – not the one I got from hitting that kid – for company. You don’t think that comes in handy as a teacher? I can sit and stare at them MUCH longer than they can sit and stare at me. So you never know how the moments of sitting in your seasons now prepare you for the great seasons of accomplishment down the line. So dust yourself off and get to it.
Oh, and if the staring thing doesn’t work, tell them about that kid you sent to the hospital by pegging him in the eye. That one always works…