I like to think of myself as someone who is always ready for change – adventurous and ready to confront new challenges. At the onset, it seems like there’s nothing that I can’t do, but there’s always this point in muddling through – amidst the puddles of the mess lying at my feet I am lost and unsure of how to wade out. I know this about myself and it has taken a long time to learn it. It shouldn’t be something that I allow to creep in regarding any decisions since I already know this of myself. It’s the moment that I think I could cry and I’d get faster results than standing palms up, clueless in knee deep water as lightening cracks above my head. I’m there tonight – not really with a committed decision in my pocket or being offered an option, but I put my toe out into a new venture and I have cold feet. For seventeen years, doing the same old thing, there’s comfort in that; knowing your field backward and forward and rarely questioning professional decisions puts my mind at ease among other dilemmas thrown my way. It’s that tight feeling in my throat that is already creeping up despite the fact that there’s nothing even in my hand when I consider walking away. During the past seventeen years, I have learned as much about myself, about families, about parenting than I have even taught. Am I ready to say goodbye to chronically untied shoelaces, braiding the tangled hair of girls lined up at recess awaiting their turn at my salon, blowing noses, wiping tears, spelling word lists, and cafeteria lunch counts for prom dresses, switching classes, broken hearts, driver’s licenses, and college aspirations?