It’s Wednesday. Woke up at ten thirty, eleven, twelve thirty-seven. I think I finally was out of bed at five after, looking around, taking it in.
Two weeks is a substantial break from daily routine, enough to let you forget what daily routine feels like, looks like, should be. Long enough for me to remember why I am this incessant worker, always scheduled out, working things in. I can’t do nothing for an extended period of time, even if nothing is watching tv, driving from Kalamazoo to Royal Oak to Novi to Detroit to Ypsilanti to Detroit to Novi, grading papers, having nothing conversations. It’s too empty, it makes my skin jump, it eats the energy from my brain and spits it back out in my nerve endings.
So it’s Wednesday night and now, in the latter half of the second week, second semester looms. 75% done with this commitment, new jobs on the horizon, my best friends are all teachers, my dad asked me the other day, “Where is home for you, now?” Is figuring that out a priority?
Nope. Priority is writing my next unit exam and unit plan, trying to rush the rest of my applications and most of all trying to remember my students and my commitment to them. My head has been so, so selfish lately. Piecing things together for myself instead of thinking of cohesive units and solid grammar and the spring course I’ll be teaching at ProSat for the rest of the year.
But, ah! Ah! There it was! Just writing that gave me a tiny spark of what I remember loving. I get to teach teachers, I get to see the students that called me over break to ask how I’m doing and texted to see if our talent show will ever get off the ground. I get to hug my favorite CMs and make new to do lists. Maybe I’ll get those clickers working. Maybe my kids will actually use computers this semester, maybe I’ll make significant gains.
The past few years I’ve been back-burner obsessed with age. Feeling so classically nineteen, or twenty-one, or this break: twenty-four. My behavior and relationships and perspective and motivations have been changing. I’m curious what a romantic relationship would look like for me now, considering I haven’t had one in so long. Curious who could play the part. I’m 24, I can write that on my blog, right? heh heh.
I’m going to suck in my breath and enjoy these last twelve hours in my hometown the best I can. Spoon with my dog, read a book, pack up the things I have strewn all over the house, get back to where I need to be in Arkansas.