Vacation Commencement

It's that time again. A few days after Christmas, when the sight of your droopy tree sends you into a panic about falling needles rather than insight warm, fuzzy winter memories and your mind begins to wander about whether or not your life is just as droopy- and if so, what are you going to do about it?

I hate the new year. Whether we want to or not, it always seems to involve reflection of some sort. Reflection on the past year, reflection on the things we've yet to accomplish, mistakes we've made, resolutions we've never carried out.

I'm a list maker. In the past few years I've made lists (during my week off) miles long of all of the things I wanted to do differently in the up and coming year. All of the things I was actually going to pursue, get to, pray for, go after, create, bake, etc. After a brief contemplation on my (new!) couch, I've decided that I'm over all of that.

This past year, I got the home I always wanted, I learned that family (no matter how nutty) are willing to help when you need it, that I love teaching kids how to read music and play the guitar, that I can drive all by myself for 16 hours straight in a car that doesn't belong to me, and fly back all by myself to accomplish something I always knew I was meant to do, that I have the most beautiful women as friends that I could have ever asked for, that my sisters are a few of the smartest people I know, that if you work to live you're a much better person, that worry's a false prophet, and that I am loved as a Daughter of the most high.

So, my resolution this year? It has nothing to do with losing 10 lbs, being more motivated, settling into a career, going back to school, being a better teacher, wife, daughter, friend.

I'm going to laugh more and worry less.

I'm going to continue praying for crazy, outrageous things knowing that I serve a God of miracles.

I'm going to dwell in the love my God has for me- remember that I am Chosen and keep in mind that compared to that, all other things fall away.

2010's going to be a great year.

Now, what to do with the notebook I was going to use for this year's list?

I Hate teaching all the time-but not on the days that I love it.

Silence

But not for long

Silence as long as a song

a brief melody

moon-lit reverie

Before temporary insanity ensues

One more sip of cold coffee renews old thoughts

Of when my life wasn’t run by the ring of a bell-

Hell-

They’re coming- 8:05

Like an army- barely alive- Dawn of the Dead

Baggy pants, wet heads

Dark circles from late night texting

What was I expecting?

Neglecting to put the right date on the board-

Let the transformation begin-

Training my ear for new roles to fit in-

“Mrs. Shannon” takes the reigns while “Jenny” takes a seat-

Six more hours until we meet again.

Lights. Camera. Action.

“Mrs. Shannon, do we need our books?”

Deep breath, muster-

Flustered, unprepared, met with 27 stares-

As always, everyday, answer, “Yes”.

10 minutes go by, still no one’s listening-

Texting to friends, painting nails and- “Who’s whistling?”

Pens tapping, students in hallways clapping, snapping up books and paper

Then from the corner, a snore- Napping.

Crap!

Close your mouths. Eyes up here. For the fifteenth time.

Directions.

Directions given once.

Directions given twice- they think I’m being nice and repeating-

I’m just competing with their thoughts and mouths and trying to avoid more questions

Think I can put them all in detentions?

How about in-school suspensions?

I’m losing their attention-

Focus-

finally, all is quiet, pens moving gracefully through

Then out from the right comes, “Uh, Mrs. Shannon, what do we do???”

Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it. You’re angry. They know it.

Point to the board. Give the stare. Smooth your hair and sit back down.

Then, again, “Mrs. Shannon, Mrs. Shannon….”

Can I go to the bathroom, can I go to my locker-

Someone’s face in my window- a stalker?

Was I this much of a talker when I was their age?

“Guess what happened to me last night…”

Interrupts again.

Ah. I might die. Or throw something. Or maybe my head will explode in a thousand pieces and land gently on their desks.

I digress.

Maybe I should just give a test.

“Mrs. Shannon, Mrs. Shannon-“

Ah, what a shame. I waited years to have that name and now I think I’m going to hate it-

I give the one minute sign with my finger.

If I linger here at my desk long enough they will have figured it out on their own-

“Mrs. Shannon…..” or not.

Hot. It’s so hot in here- then cold. I have a bi-polar classroom.

A tomb.

Boom.

Outside of the room.

Giggles.

Great.

Never underestimate kids ability to create a distraction.

Lights. Camera. Action.

If only I were a marine biologist.

A librarian.

A vegetarian.

A cake- baker.

Candle-stick maker.

World- traveler.

Musician.

A writer.

Prize-fighter.

A party all night-er.

“Mrs. Shannon????” Alas. I’m not.

I’m in class.

Ass.

Then- the bell- scuffling feet retreat- stampede! Heads down and running- but- one student remains.

Thanks me for helping her- then disappears. Fears of the morning forgotten

lost beneath waves of understanding-

I found a way to reach her.

I know why I’m a teacher.