What a World
I had a really good day yesterday. An exceptionally good day. Really top notch, if I do say so myself.
I belong to a group of professionals who do the same kind of work that I do. Internet modesty causes me to decline to state. Suffice to say, it’s not like I’m a part of the Action Hero Institute or Society of Scientists Doing Cool Stuff. For the sake of ease of this post, let’s call what I do paper shuffling.
This group has some meetings and they fund their cause by offering training courses in the various aspects and disciplines within the paper shuffling profession.
A few years ago they put out a call for instructors and I threw my hat in the ring. Back in 2010 I conducted my first training class, a four hour session. This was my first time teaching a course and 80+ slides and four hours of talking seemed daunting. I was as nervous as I’d been in a long time (pit stains reminiscent of passing my boards for my MBA) but I ended up having a really good experience.
Recently, the Paper Shuffling Professionals of America asked me to come back and teach again. I agreed and that queasy nervousness set in right away. I pulled up the PowerPoint deck I had used back in 2010 and said aloud, “hey…this is pretty good.”
I had a class of fifteen souls yesterday who actually paid money to listen to me yammer on for four hours about the art and science of paper shuffling.
It was such a great group, though. They were fun and interactive and even seemed to laugh at a good portion of my humor. Teaching the class didn’t give me pit stains this time, the hours seemed to fly. I ended the class energized as all get out and walking about half a foot off the ground.
I felt, dare I say it, very proud of myself.
As you’ll recall from this blog, I’m the girl who once, as a child, had to have a doctor extract a piñon nut I had shoved up my nose.
I once got a dime up there too. My big sister was able to get that out before the folks caught wind of the situation.
I’m the girl who was following my big brother on a hike in the mountains of Cuba, New Mexico and was trying so hard to keep up that I ran smack into a tree branch and scratched my face.
I’m the girl who wrapped a rubber band around the end of my nose. In the hour before I was to attend a ballet class. How was I to know it would badly bruise and I would be mocked mercilessly by those prissy ballet girls?
In college I once got so lost on the Border Highway I had to go to someone’s home and knock on their door to ask for directions back to Las Cruces (pre-mobile phone days). This was at night. I am still amazed I didn’t get shot.
I cannot add a column of numbers in my head. I cannot tell you which direction is north (I could do it when I had the Sandias as my guide). I often drool when I sleep. I am prone to cursing like a sailor.
And most recently, I am the girl who, just before leaving the house to go to teach a training class, used the rest room and as I flushed I also manged to drop my keys in the toilet. Big important teacher woman leapt into the bowl and held on to them for dear life as the waters rushed by (thankfully it was only a #1 bowlful).
And yet, the Paper Shuffling Professionals of America wanted me to teach a class, and worse yet people paid good money to listen to what I had to say.
What a world, what a world. Who would have thought all my years of hard work would erase my beautiful dorkiness. If only for a moment.
Photo found on The History Bluff.