Today I got rid of my dining room table.
I bought it for $30 from Goodwill last fall because I had people coming into town in December, and figured I needed a table.
Since then, I have used it for its intended purpose exactly once.
I eat my meals either at my desk, or on the couch watching TV.
The table became a place to dump stuff. Put things on.
In 2010, friends of my dad, sold everything they owned, including a thriving business, bought a boat, and sailed around. Tammy documented the process of downsizing, determining importance. While I did not start doing this until a few years ago, reading her posts, following along, is what introduced me to the idea, and got me thinking the big ideas that led to my own downsizing. One post in particular struck me, was this one, about how easy it was to WANT things, be convinced you NEEDED it, and how so many things became just things to put other things on, other things in, and then you need to buy things to put on that table, in that shelf, and suddenly you have a bunch of crap again.
For me, my process of downsizing began with giving myself permission to let go of things. Not the actual things, the clothes, the furniture, the stuff, but what those things represented. The expectation that because I am a woman I should like skirts and heels. I never have. And yet I owned a bunch. The expectation that you need certain things- end tables, chairs, dining room tables, bed frames. Some of these things were easy to let go- when Nehi had to have stomach surgery a couple of years ago, the mattress went onto the floor and never came off. After a while I realized I was fine with that and gave away the bedframe. This last year as I packed up my academic books from the PhD, I put a bookcase in storage. I got rid of the living room chairs because I rather have room to play with Nehi and do yoga. I got rid of my first dining room table, which was my favorite This End Up furniture, and which I'd restored, because it was 6' long, and ate my apartment. And, as I said above, I never used it.
I have said again and again that I have lost count of all the truckloads of things taken to Goodwill, given to friends. I have said again and again that so often it feels like my crap is like Tribbles, multiplying.
I want to move to a house with a garage, mainly because I really want to box everything up, label it well, and put most of it in the garage, unpacking only what I need. I imagine it is very little. Kitchen stuff. My record player and albums. Nehi's toys. If I ever got a college teaching job, most of what is in my office would go there.
I admit that I have these thoughts mainly because of my mom's death. When I die, there will be no one to care, to clean up, to notice. Living simply makes my life better now, but it also will make it easier for the executor of my will to ship things off to Goodwill in the end. Tidy up. Close up shop.
Every thing that leaves my house frees me.
I've learned that thinking something is cool, or pretty, or neat, doesn't mean I need to own it.
Like Tammy suggested, making shopping lists I never buy is fun. Often months later, I just delete it.
When I do buy something, it's usually because I've spent months, years, thinking about it. I spent years arguing with myself over whether or not I wanted a toaster. I liked toast. I liked BLTs and toasted PB & J. I told this story to my godmother, and she laughed. Then got me a toaster for Christmas. Missing the whole point. When I gave up most bread this past spring, the toaster because REALLY irrelevant.
It's taken me years to find the perfect tan sweater. Cargo pants with JUST the right pockets, that are super soft before you even watch them.
I have learned to wait. To enjoy.
And I acknowledge here, as many have noted, that there is a privilege in this. In being able to do this. To wait to buy something. To have money to replace something you regret giving away. To buy good quality. Comfort.
For me too, much of this is tied into the belief system my mother taught me, but didn't really live, in my growing up years. The lessons of the commune house, of living simply. Of making life about life and experiences and people and not things or keeping up or living up.
But also, one thing I've learned with all this is a narrowing down, a reduction, of who I am. I don't like skirts and heels, but I love eShakti dresses with pockets. I wear them every Monday to work, it's like PJs! I love cargo pants. I have three pairs that fit great, are so soft, and I wear them all the time. I have a small closet, far smaller than a capsule, but I love every single thing I wear. Soft, comfortable. My splurge is my t-shirt collection, but even that I've winnowed- gotten rid of so many shirts bought as parts of campaigns. I wish places like Represent and Tee Spring would have a button to support campaigns without having to buy more crap.
As fall has approached, I've been thinking a lot of holidays. My small storage room off my apartment holds Halloween decorations, Christmas decorations, Thanksgiving decoration to fill the gap. And this year I'm not pulling any of them out. This year, it just seems like so much stuff. No substance. I just don't see the point. Me liking the supernatural and horror isn't tied to the holiday. I no longer in good conscience can celebrate Thanksgiving. Christmas is just me and Nehi, and so much capitalistic crap- it's buying things. Not magic, or family, or love.
So at least for this year, it'll all stay in their boxes.
The thing is, like my things, my downsizing, once you realize what the motivations behind things are, really consider them, you see the cracks, the flaws, what you've bought into.
All of these thoughts like a blender in my head, bring me to teaching. The super smart people I follow on Twitter, and conversations like #ClearTheAir and #DisruptTexts and We Need Diverse Books make me think of applying these same thoughts to my teaching.
To think, honestly think, and consider, why am I teaching this thing? This book? This skill? This way?
Am I doing it because it is what best serves the students sitting in front of me? Or am I teaching to shadows of students past? Myself when I sat in a classroom?
Am I listening to my students when they tell me what they need? Or am I mimicking and reproducing structures that actively harm them?
Am I being conscious and reflective in my choices? Or am I just replicating what I know? Was taught?
My classroom this year looks radically different than any other classroom in the 18 years I've taught. I gave up a lot of control. I threw out teaching the canon. I lesson plan loosely, and now have the experience and content knowledge to teach on the fly based on what the children sitting right in front of me need.
My classroom is not compliant. Students have phones out. Earbuds in. Hoodies up.
But they are engaged. Reading! Writing. Listening, and talking.
I have let go of misconceptions on what teaching has to look like, and actively get in people's faces about WHY they teach the way they do. Asking them over and over- what pedagogical purpose does X decision serve? My assistant principal uses the phrase "cognitive dissonance" a lot when talking to me, and describing my conflicts with other staff members.
These things have not been any easier than letting go of gendered ideas of how I should dress and act. Or not accepting that for me to be happy, to live my life, I have to buy into the capitalistic propaganda. But I am happier now. I serve my students better.
Change is hard. But so often, it is oh so necessary.
And once you do it once, it gets easier each time.
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