Column: As a new year dawns, reveling in the promise of "the new"

One of my favorite parts of starting a new year is opening up my brand new date book.

I like new.

My date book is blank at first, of course, but then I start filling it in. Since I am a school librarian, I want to make note of future holidays, vacations and early release and workshop days. I include the projected last day of school, which I know is just a pipe dream. Any snow days we have will be made up at the end of the year, and we’ve already had one.

I mark birthdays and anniversaries, then pencil in a few recurring meetings. A conference I attend annually will occur in April.

As time goes on, the date book will fill up. I remember a horrendous week in early December when I had three long meetings after school in one week. That was way too many.

Right now, however, my schedule looks very doable. Which is one of the things I like about anything new. It’s fresh and clean and any problems with it are hopefully way down the road.

I didn’t realize my affection for novelty until I’d been married a couple of years. I’d bought some valances—those short curtains that hang along the top of window — for our living room. When my husband, Paul, arrived home, he wasn’t sure if he liked them or not. I realized he needed to adjust to them. They were new, and Paul often dislikes new.

His reaction provided valuable information about him, as well as me. Paul, in his personal life (and not politically speaking) is conservative. If I want to add some new item or routine to our lives, I have learned to give him time to consider the change before making up his mind.

Paul decided a couple of days later that he liked the valances. Meanwhile, I absorbed the fact that not everyone likes new things, new ways, or new anything at all. But I did.

While my willingness to embrace new ideas gives me a certain aura of flexibility, it’s not always a virtue. I am one of those annoying persons who want to start a new project before the old one is completely finished. Sometimes I rush too quickly into new ventures. And, of course, if I like a new item well enough to buy it, I can end up with a lot of stuff. I am especially drawn to books, magazines, stationery items and yarn.

I find it hard to resist a new pen, for example. Like a new journal or date book, it holds the promise of possibility. That’s why new years are so exciting, whether we are starting out in January or September. Even if we don’t personally celebrate the Chinese New Year, it’s always interesting to learn what the year’s animal symbol is, and to ponder what that might mean for future events. Last year surely reflected its animal, the monkey. I can’t help but think that, in this new year of the rooster, we will have a “rooster” in the White House. So let’s see how that goes!

Because I like thinking about possibilities, I enjoy planning. I find it relaxing to sit down with my date book to figure out when and how I’m going to get things done. Some weeks, it can be like working out a puzzle. There are “must-dos” for certain days, and more flexible activities have to be scheduled around them. I have to make sure I have enough free time, or else I’ll be bothersome and grumpy. Planning also comforts me when I can’t do everything I want to do. (I am the type of person who thinks there are 28 hours in a day.) When I map out the week or month ahead, and realize I can’t do it all, I don’t have to beat myself up over it. It’s there in black and white—and sometimes lime green ink.

When I’m not writing in fancy colors, I am using pencil, because my plans are just drafts, after all.

A snow day or the sudden onset of a cold can set a whole set of changes into motion. But I don’t fret. I just look at it as another opportunity to come up with a plan.

Plans, like new ideas and things, have that promise of possibility. I see the open days of vacations and imagine myself by the fire, reading, in February, and digging in my garden in April. Summer beckons me, a beacon of hope. It’s a positive thing to live in the moment, and to appreciate the here and now. But it’s the thought of good things to come in the future that keeps us going through the less-than-bright days, especially in the middle of March.

As an educator, I don’t like doing the same units year after year. Though it means more work, I’m always looking for ways to change up my instruction. In the fall, I gave a short presentation to five groups of high school freshmen. They all needed to hear the same information. By the time I got to the fifth group, my brain was so tired and bored, I couldn’t remember if I had discussed a topic with them or if I was thinking of the previous group.

Luckily, this was right at the start of the new school year. It could only get better, and I sure had a lot of planning to do.