# 7 Blog, May 18: Nose Grinding

Compliments of my grandsons! At least no clothes attached.

If you put your nose to the grind stone rough,

AndI keep it down there long enough,

You will soon conclude there are no such things,

As a brook that babbles or a bird that sings.

These three things will your world compose:

Just you, the stone, and your ground-down nose.

Author unknown

London Love ThemeJanette Mason & James Thompson (or Piano Hive)

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Performed by Susanne Campbell, All Paths Piano

The following blog I wrote on May 18, 2025. I am hoping to continue writing weekly blogs as a way to help more people who struggle. Not sure if people are finding me, but if you think you would like to follow me and my updates, please visit me at www.francenegillis.ca. I am still working out kinks, so be kind.

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I chose this pertinent topic as we try to wind down for the summer and switch into vacation mode. So many of us spin on a wheel trying to keep up, we do not realize the state of our affairs until it is too late, or a wakeup call sounds an alarm.

The clothespin photograph is complements of my grandsons! At least no clothes were attached, but I must say the giggles were plenty.

Are we so stifled or stuck that we can't get out from underneath because we are too exhausted trying to keep up with our obligations and responsibilities? Do we have time to be silly, to play with our children, get down on the floor and be with them without our cellphone? How about letting them put clothespins in our hair as their mischievous , conjoined laughter fills the house?

We are generations of people running on a treadmill going nowhere, and it is wearing us down. When we can’t reach out because of time constraints, stress, or pressure, we lose a part of ourselves. And we don’t even see until our nose is smaller.

I was there. My job as a high school English Language Arts teacher took all of me to keep up. A perfectionist and  workaholic, I wanted my students to like me. Sound familiar? I ran on fumes, still, I kept pushing. Diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Endometriosis as a young woman, driving myself helped me cope with physical pain by giving me something else on which to focus. It helped . . . some, but once I finished my workday, I crashed. And so the flower that might have grown so beautifully to represent my life grew deformed. Ugly for a flower, although I was unaware at the time.

Maybe that is why a sharp, unexpected turn in the tumultuous path stopped me cold in my tracks. In retrospect, which my blogs will be based on, I gave too much time and energy to a career that like a dandelion drifts away for another to take its place. It ate me up and spit me out in deformity. Seldom did I take my head out of books, and lessons, and learning, and curriculum outcomes.

Hindsight 20/20, I wish I had the opportunity to go back into my classroom. I would be sillier, more relaxed and less result-driven. I'd carry the same compassion and sincerity of my intentions, for I learned from students and parents, just as they learned from me. Vibrant, giving teenagers were my synergy.

During those intense years, I had no time or energy to reach out beyond my classroom. Too busy with work, friends dropped by the wayside, and the staff likely thought I was a loner. An introvert by nature, an extrovert with a cause, I just did not have the self-esteem or the skills to socialize so I kept my nose to the whetstone.

None, I suspect, realized I was too shy to go into the lunchroom and eat with colleagues I admired. It was a challenge; eating centers on the face, draws attention to a less than perfect complexion, thin hair, and on and on.

The dichotomy, most of my colleagues probably thought the opposite of me. As a teacher, I was confident, well-prepared in my lessons, probably over-prepared. I ran workshops and trained other teachers across the province. How could I be shy or introverted? But I was, and the red flush that appeared, mocked and gave me away. I sincerely hope the teachers at my school knew the true me.

For comfort, I stayed in my classroom before and after school, and at lunchtime. With younger people I was at ease. I had something of value to offer them, and I liked getting to know them as young people first, students second. I knew what it was like to feel alone and helpless as a teenager, and I did not want my students to feel that way. So I pushed and pushed myself dangerously close to burnout.

My heart was with every single student. I can honestly say that. I made mistakes, learned from them and improved. We can only do our best, and on some days, our best may not be enough, but that is okay. Perhaps it means we should pull our nose away from the grindstone and get more sun.

It takes a network to raise and educate young people, starting with the teachers in the classroom, students and parents, administration, supervisors, boards, and people outside the school system, who know what skills and abilities are needed in a steadily advancing, technological world. Classroom structure needs to change, with student learning paramount. The more senses, student interests, and preferred learning strategies adopted, the better.

Working with is always better than working against. The world needs to be kinder, better at providing encouragement. In a system busting at the seams with too many tasks, obligations, paperwork, extras, teachers have little time to prepare and teach. A rare premise—let teachers teach, students learn, not regurgitate. We get so caught up in a world trying to be our best, we fail to see what we are missing. Life is not only work. At least it should not be. Working at a paying job allows us to financially look after ourselves and our family, but it is only one role of many, one petal.

In 2016, I lost my identity when unceremoniously the career I loved, evaporated. I had to dig deep, reflect on a narrow existence, brought about by an unexpected fall. Time I suddenly had a lot of, forcing me to analyze my life, from the inside out. To begin anew, I grabbed a pen and drew petals around a golden ring, each one representing my roles in life,

Horrified I stared at the depiction. I sat down and I cried, and cried at the realization in front of me. I had put too much time into my career, leaving me with little else.

I was not a flower. I cried because precious time and moments had escaped from me, faded into the wind. Suddenly my children were grown and on their own. My nose to the grind stone, I missed too much, and it can happen to any one of us . . .

Try The Activity Above. It Will Be An Eye-Opener!

If comfortable share any insights gained. Hope this exercise and blog prove valuable.

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