Recommedation Letter and Losing Track of the Days
by Kath Thompson
39 people came to the Yoga Challenge yesterday. And 39 people came today, too. Not all the same people, but some were the same. It’s funny that the same number came on both days.
I am losing track of the days of the week already. I know that today is “Day 2.” Beyond that, not too sure. I found myself in the bike shop today, talking with my friend Jim and experiencing a brain gap when it came to knowing what day it was..
“Surely you jest, my good man. It can’t possibly be Monday. No, no. Mondays mark the beginning of the work week . My week began yesterday, so today must be Tuesday.”
But no. It’s Monday. What I want to know is: Since when did the earth stop revolving around me?
After my morning ritual of 750 words, I wrote a letter of recommendation for one of my students, who also happens to be a person I really love and enjoy.
I’ve written my fair share of recs, but this one was actually fun. This person wants to go to YTT at Kripalu and she’s applying for some scholarship money. Kripalu both is, and isn’t, like corporate America. It has to be in a way, because of all the money involved in keeping such a place afloat, but they don’t subscribe to the corporate paradigm in a big way. That’s why it was easy to write this rec. I know how they see themselves and how they like to be seen.
They like it real. So I told them stuff about this woman that I know they think about when they think about propagating the Kripalu name. They want teachers who are competent, but also dynamic and charismatic. Solid in their skills, but also good at representing the brand, which has always been kind of nebulous, if you ask me. Beyond BRFWA, it gets a little murky.
I didn’t feel like I had to write a bunch of bullshit nonsense but could give them a picture of this person. That’s what you want in a rec, right? You want the person writing it to tell you the down low on this person, who they are, as people.
I think I did that.
Now I need to go to bed.
I am incredibly tired.