Whatever invaded my body for the past 48 hours took leave sometime overnight. I woke up this morning feeling almost human, which is how I feel most mornings, so that would mean that we’re back to business as usual.

Just for the record, I have NINE days before school starts. NINE. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9. That’s counting today, so that would mean 8.5 days really. There’s simply not enough cheese for the symphony of whining that will resonant in the Allan home over the next 8.5 days.

I love teaching. It’s just that 150 students show up for almost nine months.[insert laugh track here] Honestly, that’s 150 attitudes a day, not counting administrators, peers, or parents. Some days it’s like being in a reality show for personality disorders….and that’s generally just mine. After weeks of lazy mornings, bonding with my laptop, chatting with friends, schlepping around in my jammies, lounging on the sofa with the husband–reading while he’s watching something noisy, and generally slug-ness, it’s a challenge to wind myself up for a 4:30 wake-up call, teaching six classes, a 26 minute lunch, conferences, meetings, and grading papers.

Once I meet my darlings, I’m fine. My feet hit the ground running, and I’m stretching my arms out wide enough to scoop them all with me and push them along. They energize me, frustrate me, motivate me, and fascinate me. And nothing delights me more than, years after they graduate, when they find me on Facebook to tell me they’re parenting, building, lawyering, doctoring, nursing, accounting, and contributing members of Planet Earth. In fact, recently I ran into one at the grocery (no, not a cart-driving issue) who handed me his business card (!), and told me he’s writing magazine articles (because he wants to, not because of his job). Amazing. Not that he’s doing it, but that I could stand back and witness the yound man he’d become.

Several of my former students are now teachers themselves. Their enthusiasm fills me with gratitude for the choice they’ve made to step into the classroom and dare to believe in the goodness of their students.

So, am I whining because the wave of school is overtaking the summer beach? Yes.

But riding the wave is the only way in.

Related posts:

1. (On our way to a)Perfect High School
2. Quaker Summer: not just another novel
3. Quaker Summer: It’s not just a season