I used to have a cartoon that I'd cut from a late August newspaper years ago, stuck to my refrigerator door. It showed a little boy frantically treading water while several vicious sharks swam in circles around his feet. The kid looked terrified, and the sharks had the word "school" written on their backs as they nipped at his heels.
That is precisely how I am feeling these days. I am a middle school teacher, and I have avoided even finding out what day I am supposed to appear at my place of employment, preferring instead to just think, "later!" Later is good!
Later is just about here. An email arrived notifying me of an opening program for all teachers on August 30th, and I wrote that dreaded date into my full-of-fun-up-until-now calendar, then smiled gleefully when I realized there was a full week or so before then. A REPRIEVE !
Not to belabor a point, but would you believe that I also received a phone call with a deep, doom-ridden voice, a recorded message, to tell me about that same event???? An email was not enough? I had to LISTEN to the memo, too?
When my kids were growing up, Oh, how I loved summer vacation! I was so happy to have them home with me to play with, to take to the swim club, to sleep in and let them sleep in, too! JOY ! I served PBJs on a picnic table, and poured Kool-Aid with happiness in my heart, loving almost every moment of having them home and in my daily life. The only "schedule" we kept was to be at the pool when it opened at 12:30. We went to bed when we were sleepy, woke up when we were not, and my childrens' hair turned white from sunshine, while they got farmer tans and had contests over whose feet were the dirtiest at bath time.
On the last day of summer vacation, there would be some excitement over the new year. All except for ONE of my darlings, Stephen. The sharks began swimming around his feet on August first, and he had the look of a condemned man for the rest of the month. The elementary principal once told me that Stephen "didn't really come back to school until about October, and he let himself out somewhere about mid-April." (Not that he got bad grades, he just wasn't really "there!") Stephen was mentally barefoot, and swimming, running, riding a bike, making sand castles, hanging out with a pack of other kids in the neighborhood, and generally being a KID.
The night before school restarted each year, he and I would walk down to the Dairy Queen, order one last summer treat, and sit, without talking, at a table. Then Stephen would cry. Then I would cry. We'd say things to each other like, "It went too fast, " or "I don't want summer to end." We'd wipe our tears with little Dairy Queen napkins, and sniffle a lot. It was misery at what we considered to be its worst, at that time.
Stephen is now a young man with a job and an apartment. He doesn't get a "starting point" and a "stopping point," anymore. He just works like the rest of the world, pretty much nonstop, except for an occasional short vacation or a day off.
I, on the other hand, teach at a middle school, and I have had the past nearly three months off to travel, read, sleep, cook, clean my house, visit with friends I don't usually have time to see, gain a few pounds, lose the stressed-out look on my face, and generally enjoy each day to the fullest. I got the privilege to be gloriously bored!
I believe that being bored is a necessity, so that we learn how to entertain ourselves. Without enough "down time" we don't fully appreciate "up time," for one thing. For another, I think brains work better when there's a little bit of boredom delightfully endured. It is vital to life.
The sharks have already gotten and kept Stephen, and in another ten days, they are gonna get ME, too.
I need to figure out how to keep some time for myself, have some boredom to savor, keep reading, and keep getting enough sleep. Otherwise, I will truly feel that I have been eaten up, alive, by my job.
On August 29th, I wonder if Stephen would let me take him to Dairy Queen and allow me to cry. And would HE cry, with me, and FOR me, and for himself, too?
