Do you ever experience pure bliss? I've had the feeling a few times in my life. It's a moment of perfect euphoria. A singular if fleeting clarity. The extinction of worry.
I felt it this week, actually, when I learned there would be a snow day.
When I got the snow-call, I sensed the warmth and peace of a thousand splendid suns shining on my heart all at once, from all different angles, simultaneously and serendipitously–because the only thing better than a snow day is a snow day that is not expected and therefore not urgently hoped for.
To add to the ecstasy of this snow day, the day before we had an early release due to the powdery fucking goodness. So my week has consisted of a Monday spent lounging, with a splash of one really good article about Martin Luther King Jr.; my Tuesday turned into a half-day (I still remember the moment, sitting in the teacher's lounge, waiting patiently to make my copies, when our principal's voice sounded over the speakers, announcing our deliverance from full-day strains. I promptly jumped up, let out a carnal yelp, and hugged each of my coworkers, hard, like wrapping my arms around their bodies and squeezing our beings together hard); my Wednesday snow day consisted of waking up, eating about 2,000 calories worth of banana pancakes, eggs, and hashbrowns with Tabasco and ketchup, and then crawling back into bed to read for thirty minutes. Then I fell asleep and took a long nap, like a cat.
In other words, THIS WEEK HAS BEEN PURE SEX.
Only adding to it all, if that's even possible, is the fact that this was supposed to be the absolute hardest week of my life, despite the Monday holiday. Here's what I had been expecting:
Tuesday: Full day at school. Meeting with my Principal for my formal observation on Thursday. Basketball game at some other school. Bus ride back to our school after game. Bike ride back home. Tentative dinnertime: 7:30.
Wednesday: Full day at school. Home basketball game right after school. After the game, little extra planning and preparation for formal observation the next day. At 6:00, pickup basketball in school gym with coworkers/other ballers. Tentative dinnertime: 8:15
Thursday: Packed day at school. Before classes begin, meeting with my TFA coach. First class, coaching from my TFA coach. Second class, formal observation. Third class, coaching from another coach. Lunch (when I am already busy with detentions in my room), post-meeting with my TFA coach. Prep, debrief with other coach. After school, away basketball game. Ride bus back to school. Bike ride home. Tentative dinnertime: 7:30.
Stress level–actually not as high as you'd expect as I've stopped caring so much about people observing me. However, it still isn't the most pleasant of experiences, and a day like this would surely bring an eye twitch or two.
Friday: Float through the day after the shitstorm of Tuesday-Thursday. Post-meeting with my principal after the formal observation.
Instead of that week, it's been PURE SEX, as I already mentioned. The disparity between expected reality and actual reality has put me in a thoroughly beatific state of mind.
What more can a good teacher ask for than to get unscheduled days off, during which he or she can disregard the endless planning that needs to be done and, instead, spend the days lounging like a beached orca, reading good books, good articles, and shitty articles to build self-esteem, and maybe taking some time to watch the snow fall and laughing when he or she realizes that the roads really aren't that bad, that school probably shouldn't have been canceled...?
A good teacher can't ask for anything better than that. Because there is nothing better than that.
(If you did something better than that, I implore you, tell me, preferably in a comment, on this blog, because I rarely get those.)
Stay classy, Connecticut. And by classy I mean shitstormy in the snowiest of ways.
I felt it this week, actually, when I learned there would be a snow day.
When I got the snow-call, I sensed the warmth and peace of a thousand splendid suns shining on my heart all at once, from all different angles, simultaneously and serendipitously–because the only thing better than a snow day is a snow day that is not expected and therefore not urgently hoped for.
To add to the ecstasy of this snow day, the day before we had an early release due to the powdery fucking goodness. So my week has consisted of a Monday spent lounging, with a splash of one really good article about Martin Luther King Jr.; my Tuesday turned into a half-day (I still remember the moment, sitting in the teacher's lounge, waiting patiently to make my copies, when our principal's voice sounded over the speakers, announcing our deliverance from full-day strains. I promptly jumped up, let out a carnal yelp, and hugged each of my coworkers, hard, like wrapping my arms around their bodies and squeezing our beings together hard); my Wednesday snow day consisted of waking up, eating about 2,000 calories worth of banana pancakes, eggs, and hashbrowns with Tabasco and ketchup, and then crawling back into bed to read for thirty minutes. Then I fell asleep and took a long nap, like a cat.
In other words, THIS WEEK HAS BEEN PURE SEX.
Only adding to it all, if that's even possible, is the fact that this was supposed to be the absolute hardest week of my life, despite the Monday holiday. Here's what I had been expecting:
Tuesday: Full day at school. Meeting with my Principal for my formal observation on Thursday. Basketball game at some other school. Bus ride back to our school after game. Bike ride back home. Tentative dinnertime: 7:30.
Wednesday: Full day at school. Home basketball game right after school. After the game, little extra planning and preparation for formal observation the next day. At 6:00, pickup basketball in school gym with coworkers/other ballers. Tentative dinnertime: 8:15
Thursday: Packed day at school. Before classes begin, meeting with my TFA coach. First class, coaching from my TFA coach. Second class, formal observation. Third class, coaching from another coach. Lunch (when I am already busy with detentions in my room), post-meeting with my TFA coach. Prep, debrief with other coach. After school, away basketball game. Ride bus back to school. Bike ride home. Tentative dinnertime: 7:30.
Stress level–actually not as high as you'd expect as I've stopped caring so much about people observing me. However, it still isn't the most pleasant of experiences, and a day like this would surely bring an eye twitch or two.
Friday: Float through the day after the shitstorm of Tuesday-Thursday. Post-meeting with my principal after the formal observation.
Instead of that week, it's been PURE SEX, as I already mentioned. The disparity between expected reality and actual reality has put me in a thoroughly beatific state of mind.
What more can a good teacher ask for than to get unscheduled days off, during which he or she can disregard the endless planning that needs to be done and, instead, spend the days lounging like a beached orca, reading good books, good articles, and shitty articles to build self-esteem, and maybe taking some time to watch the snow fall and laughing when he or she realizes that the roads really aren't that bad, that school probably shouldn't have been canceled...?
A good teacher can't ask for anything better than that. Because there is nothing better than that.
(If you did something better than that, I implore you, tell me, preferably in a comment, on this blog, because I rarely get those.)
Stay classy, Connecticut. And by classy I mean shitstormy in the snowiest of ways.