Great Teachers of 2023
The books, voices, and stories that shifted my thinking and spurred growth this year
Is the year really almost over? I’m having trouble internalizing this fact because, of course, there remains so much left undone. I rarely end the calendar year feeling I crossed everything off my list, but this week I am challenging myself to some deeper internal accounting: How did I spend my days of 2023? What words characterize this year?
As I take myself back to last January, I can see that, for the most part, this was a year of turning inward, of doing the work and laying bricks for the future. It was a year of identifying all I don’t know and then figuring out how to bring that information to myself.
It was also a year of shifting course. I was ready for a quieter existence, one with the flexibility to do more writing, spend more time with my kids, and prioritize my health. Leaving teaching was terrifying, but the universe graciously intervened (in the form of a fabulous human named Chloe Kaplan), and I joined the team at Amore Learning. I end the year with the thing I needed most: balance.
It is with great thanks to the following (and sometimes unexpected) teachers of the past year for helping me arrive at this place.
Alone Time: As a true blue ambivert, I enjoy spending time with people as much as I enjoy being on my own. But I’m no fan of trekking to the woods for a little isolation (cue memories of wilderness-induced panic attacks). Instead, I prefer alone time in a place where I’m surrounded by people. Specifically, people I don’t have to talk to. I began 2023 by taking a solo trip to NYC (pro-travel tip: New York in January is a bargain compared to December). I walked up and down Manhattan letting my thoughts about a new writing project wander, traveled through the neighborhood in Brooklyn where I imagined my characters lived, and took myself to see Hadestown (where I overheard a gossip fest between two ushers that was so juicy I transcribed it later). Amtrak is my most productive place on the planet, so I got lots of writing done and planned carefully for my New Year resolutions. If you want to start the year with intention, January is a wonderful month for reflection and a bit (or a lot) of alone time.
Katie Kitamura: I fell in love with Kitamura’s writing back in 2022 when I read Intimacies. As a writer, she is masterful in all the ways I hope to grow. Her prose is sharp, elegant, and exceptionally observant. When I saw that she was teaching at Aspen Words in June, I was thrilled for the chance to study under her. Given that I’ve never studied writing professionally, my time in Aspen was a crash course in learning how to examine and discuss literature. At times, I felt like the dullest knife in the bunch, but truthfully, I was thrilled to learn alongside such talented company. My week with Katie and the other workshop participants helped me clarify what kind of fiction writer I aspire to be and taught me to read my work through a critical lens. (P.S. Turns out Katie Kitamura the person is just as sharp, elegant, and observant as her work. A real win.)
Quitting: Perfectionists don’t like quitting, but when we do it, we sure like to make sure we’re doing it right. The honest story is that I was ready to leave teaching at MANY moments during the pandemic. On the hardest days, I was not only ready to quit but to set fire to the building on the way out (Pandemic Abby was not a delight to know or live with). But a tiny, resolute whisper kept telling me to wait. To sit through the discomfort. To explore the gifts of patience. Now that I am on the other side of that process, I can see that waiting was absolutely the right choice. When I finally chose to leave, it wasn’t out of anger or frustration. It was a decision made with both eyes on the future, ready to turn toward something new, and deeply grateful for the years behind me. That question: am I turning toward something or away? can be a valuable data point in deciding whether you’re ready for change.
My Students: This is the ultimate reason I’m glad I stayed during those tough years. I didn’t know (couldn’t have known!) how much I would need the kids who would stand before me. Any teacher will tell you about the alchemy that happens each school year. Individual personalities meld together, neurons ping off one another, and interpersonal interactions create chemical reactions that result in distinct and discernable group dynamics. Although some dynamics are easier to manage than others, every group of students is a powerful teacher. Some of my kiddos navigated profound traumas during our time together. Others embraced agency over their learning in a way that propelled them to new places. Some demonstrated kindness to a degree I didn’t think possible. All I carry with me.
Romantic Comedy: What I dislike about the world of literary fiction is the pretentiousness. The “who’s worthy” and “who’s not” elitism is beyond silly and does nothing to invite would-be-readers to the conversation. Do I love beautifully crafted writing? Of course! Do I want to be in the in-crowd? DUH (I have terrible FOMO). But also, just yuck. Just as man cannot live on bread alone, readers cannot survive on highbrow, erudite literature. We need all kinds of books at the table and this year I found myself captivated by a genre I’d previously (and snobbishly) passed over: romantic comedy. It is a fact that I read every one of Emily Henry’s books in 2023 and it is also a fact that she is a genius in dialogue writing and that I
definitelymaybebawledteared up at the end of BOOK LOVERS. Another favorite for the SNL lovers out there: ROMANTIC COMEDY by Curtis Sittenfeld (who is both literary and very, very fun).
Short Stories: More than a year ago, I joined a writing group that meets monthly (and lately every morning at 6am for silent writing!). A few members are avid short story writers. At first, I didn’t understand the appeal of this genre, but a year of reading my group’s writing and exploring their recommendations has caused me to turn a corner and I now behold short stories with great curiosity. In many ways, this compact form demands more skill than a novel. Each word, each sentence, must do tremendous heavy lifting to achieve its goals. If you, like me, feel lukewarm about the genre, I highly recommend The Writer’s Voice, a podcast by The New Yorker. I’ve linked one of my favorite stories from this year.
Substack: Oh, Substack! What took me so long to discover your gifts? Now that we’re all here, let me recommend a few voices I look forward to each week in my inbox: Roxane Gay, George Saunders, Courtney Maum, Rebecca Makkai, and many others I’ll continue to share about!
Rest: I saved one of my favorite teachers for last, as it’s one I hope you’ll invite yourself to learn from too. After I left teaching, I realized it was going to take a few months to get my body back online. My nerves were frayed. I was constantly getting sick. And I was bone tired. For a few months, I granted myself unlimited permission to sleep in, read what I felt like, let the house accumulate clutter, and chill in front of the television with my children. My nervous system was in desperate need of rewiring and part of that process meant easing up on my ambitions and putting productivity on hold.
One of my biggest fears in life is not using my time well, but sometimes the desire to live a big, productive life hampers our ability to be present in the lives we’re living.
I worried that this period would last indefinitely and that I’d struggle to pull myself out of it. But it turns out, it’s OK to trust yourself and the natural ebbs and flows of your journey. Sometimes it’s a season for hard work. Sometimes it’s a season of rest.
Wish you and yours peace during this delicate season. May you trust in yourself, find delight in imagining the future, and recognize the great teachers in your life.
What a lovely year-end wrap up! Wishing you more growth, productivity, and learning in 2024!