Written by Cathy
I am a teacher, retired, but still a teacher. That didn’t suddenly cease with the retirement dinner, gifts and cards. So many of my memories, some of which carry special significance, are from my teaching experiences. Here’s one that carries meaning for me today:
My third grade class had completed a unit in Science on energy, force and work. As part of the final quiz the children were to use those concepts to describe a baseball game. One sharp little girl wrote something like this: The pitcher uses energy to throw the ball towards me. I use force to move the bat to hit the ball to change its direction. But the work done is not much cause I can’t hit for beans!
That recollection still makes me chuckle. Such self-knowledge and humor from an eight-year old. Which brings me to inertia.
After I retired, I realized that I had been an object in motion–always moving, always doing. The job demanded it, and I was glad for the constancy and rhythm of my life. With retirement, however, I could slow down–reflect, relax–as it’s so often called. But this object missed motion. Without movement, inertia took its toll. I began to sleep into the later hours of the morning, wander the house without purpose, dawdle over my coffee mug. The television siren beckoned me–what were Hoda and Kathy Lee up to now, who would solve my diet dilemma, what new topic had Whoopi’s knickers in a knot today?
I needed force to get me in gear, to start me moving. My grandkids helped. My daughter helped. And now this blog. I’ve got to get moving to keep up.
Will I connect or will I strike out?