It is the Eve of Februar'; the midnight chime draws nigh,
Can I even describe to you the extreme peace and tranquility that descends upon the teacher when the teaching day ahead is to be spent on a field trip? Gone is that feeling as if a 20 pound weight were on your shoulders burdening you with questions of how you are going to make it go and how you are going to get the students to behave and how you are going to get that grading done. You sigh a deep breath as you think how your day is in the hands of other presenters and organizers--all you have to do is keep a head count and name list and get the same number and names on and off the bus two times (piece of cake). Contrast that with the usual opposing feeling, and you'd wish you had a field trip every day.
I wish that tomorrow were a snow day--especially since I just had to move my car to the Armory lot so the city can continue to plow the snow from yesterday even though they aren't exspecting any snow! I hate to whine, but, this means that I have an extra 12 minutes tacked onto my commute involving walking in the snow with everything I'm bringing on my shoulders. But it's Sunday, and I must write about my day. . .
Here it was, the coveted snow day. The reason that so many people use to say that teaching is a good job. Well, it is, but, let me tell you, the snow day goes by quicker than lightning. Now, I'm one of those people who constantly finds things to organize, clean, read, write, sew, eat, think about, create, and study, let along grade and prep, and I can attest that the 24 hour day that God has given us is simply not long enough. It took me four plus hours alone just to translate a chapter and a half of my Latin text book (I was trying to get through at least three) and the handful of other piddling things that I did weren't too remarkable--though I'm glad to have them done). Needless to say, I haven't touched the grading yet--but the day's not over. I also kept myself from reading anything like usual. I feel that everything I did was necessary and punctuated only by brief spells of petting the cats, and yet, the day is nearly done.
I am remembering now why I was so dreading going back to teaching. "Why--seriously. Why?" is the thought of it so repulsive when one has some days off? Isn't this my chosen profession? Isn't this, to some extent, my vocation? Then why do I feel like a child who has found some good equipment in a playground and now is being torn from it kicking and screaming? I have always thought that I could be a "stay at home creator" and think so even more now.
It's the first Sunday of the new year, and I have decided to blog. This is not as sporadic as it may sound, for blogging is one of those activities that I have been wanting to do for some time and never feeling that I have the time for.