Gritty Wit

I think I have a found name for this blog of mine. I’d like to thank Squanto.

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Last week I read a great book to my class about Squanto. Now I teach little guys so we tread lightly when it comes to big concepts like slavery but I found a book by Joseph Bruchac that did a nice job explaining Squanto’s plight. In a nutshell, Squanto’s life sucked. He got tricked, captured, sold into slavery, only to return home to find his whole family had died of disease. His story could have ended there as I’m sure many did. But it didn’t since many people know what happened from this point forward. I coupled this story with The Little Engine That Could and then had a fabulous conversation with my class about something called GRIT.

Grit is defined as fortitude, courage, determination, tenacity. Without these, we throw in the towel when our circumstances are not ideal, easy or desirable. I’d like to think I’m someone who has grit. After all, I’m not dead (there are a few experiences I’ve had where I probably should be). I haven’t lost my mind (if you met my extended family you would be nodding your head right now). I haven’t quit my job (teaching is HARD…don’t even try the whole July/August bullshit with me…it’s not for the weak baby). I’m still married (I love my husband but for the love of God can the man hang up his pants once in a while?). My daughters made it out of high school and almost through college (alive, not pregnant, and not addicted to drugs) and (for now) I’m still a contributing member of society…I’m not living in a box on my own island talking to birds.

We all need a certain amount of grit to get through each day. Right now I’m in the middle of parent-teacher Conferences. Grit. Is. Necessary. My sister is dealing with (or not dealing with) her addiction to alcohol. A degree of grit is needed just to remain in her life…on the good days. When my Kindergarteners are learning to tie their shoes or to read a book grit is needed…this is hard stuff when you’re five. When my father died and I had to empty his condo we found that he had been hoarding…for over 20 years. It was like the worst episode of Buried Alive you’d ever seen. Grit was needed to show up every day. To put one foot in front of the other. To pick my head up off the pillow. To open my eyes.

What I’m trying to say is that grit is different for different people. Grit is not giving up. Grit develops over time…with experience. In the end…I think we are better for it.

Stay gritty people…

PS What do you think of my new name?