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Pin It I fought my way through the depths of Walmart on Saturday evening.

Moving through the school supply aisles was like trying to claw my way out of the seventh level of Dante’s Inferno; there were melees of carts careening in all directions. Sets of beleaguered parents consulted with school lists as their confused children blocked the walkways like the buffalo in Yellowstone National Park. The shelves around them looked like war-ravaged aftermath—or something comparable to the Los Angeles looting during the riots of 1992.

I felt relieved that I didn’t give out class supply lists, but rather furnished my students with the basic necessities they’d need for the school year: glasses of water and crusts of bread.

Of course, I know that to some parents this is a rite of passage into the new year: buying the newest morphed generation of the Trapper Keeper and the retro Casio calculator watch which is as much a sentimental journey for themselves as a supply run for their offspring.

However, who am I to stop the forward ambling of progress?

I dodged down a few deserted aisles and was able to pick up my various and sundry items—rather quickly I might add—and within the space of another 10 minutes or so, I fled the store to the safety of my vehicle. I shut the door and settled back in the driver’s seat with the feeling like I’d just escaped from drowning,

I should have waited until midnight…

Today came—and went—rather quickly I might add, bringing with it the ominous realization that tomorrow, yet another school year would begin.

School.

I’d thought I was done with the major preparations before the tidal wave of students would arrive on the morrow; however, after a slew of thought I realized that there was still so much yet to be done.

Fast-forward some 9 or so hours later to where I stumbled out of my classroom just minutes before the alarm system armed itself, with my eyes glassy and a feeling of being completely and utterly worn out.

I slumped in my car and drove toward home, the miles of road stretching before me as I listened to the silence.

It sounded nice.

Tomorrow will come. I wonder tonight if sleep will evade me; it seems that it always does this time of year. Chances are I will lie there and think about my students…I will wonder about them as they spend their last few hours either in giddy anticipation or in downcast hesitancy of the new school year and the death of their old friend, summertime.

Will they be sleeping soundly tonight? Will they awaken with that selfsame feeling of newness that the first day of school seemed to always bring for me when was a kid?

I read over an email or two, wrote this post, and then I readied to close my computer for the evening. Before shutting down I decided to check Facebook; I saw that a message had been sent to my Adventures & Misadventures of Daily Living page.

It was a photograph from Megan Wade.

I stared for a few moments at the image filling my screen, all the while the neurons in my brain made their connections in regard to what it all meant…and then I started to laugh, my energy slowly returning.

Tomorrow will come, and I’m so ready to meet you, Joey. I’m excited to start our educational journey, and to begin our plethora of adventures together…

Diving in

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12:57 a.m.

It was a hardish day.

I use the term ‘ish’ rather loosely because there have been others that have been far worse over the past week or two; today was not the chart-topper, but would most certainly rate amongst the top ten.

Have you ever felt like you could literally eat your way through the walls which surround you? Have you ever before felt that terrible sensation...a kind of horribleness which seems to grow, spreading like the tendrils of a noxious, wild plant—threatening to strangle you? Have you ever been in a store and wanted to start grabbing objects off of the shelves and start hurtling them across the room?

That’s exactly how I was starting to feel today. It was relentless and eating away at my insides, like that scene in “Alien” when the creature is lodged in the man’s chest and rips its way out…

I know. Gross.

Mom and I sat alone in the deafening silence of the hushed-up house for a couple of hours today. After a while, I finally had to have some type of background noise—it was far too silent: a movie, music, something.

I’d been very selective with my dad lately when it came to movies, and knew I had to be careful.

“Put in a movie,” he’d say. As I’d thumb through the collection I’d brought, I’d discard options immediately.

Mr. Deeds…No, cancer references.

Sleepless in Seattle…No, death.

Moulin Rouge?…No, death.

Pay it Forward?...No, death.

The Bucket List? Most definitely not.

So instead of a movie playing in the background, I opted for some music; instrumental strains to lift and fill. I adjusted my iPod to Jon Schmidt and then began the arduous task of being.

I was fine, until this song began to play.

I won’t go into detail of what I felt as the music played, but I felt it; I could have switched it off…I probably should have, but I didn’t. I allowed it to overpower me, to consume me, to envelop me in a vesicle of anguish.

It.was.horrible.

It was later that my dad arrived back home and around 8:00 this evening I found myself down on the elevated railroad tracks which traverse over Lake Pend Oreille. I stared at the swirling rivulets of water—trillions of droplets combined together creating this massive lake.

I sat there for a long time as the sun set over the mountains, and eventually sat down on the rocks at the water’s edge, staring.

I felt the urge to jump.

But no, I’d brought no swimming trunks, and wasn’t prepared to swim.

Suddenly, I didn’t care. Giving way to impulse, I stripped away my shoes and leapt into the placid waters. I soared through the air for a moment and then was enveloped in a saturated deluge. As the water closed over me, I felt something come away, like a layer of gloom

It was like I’d been revitalized, refilled, reanimated yet again. A smile came to my face as I felt the coolness of the water flowing about me and I clambered onto the shoreline rocks.

The summer wind blew my hair as the water dripped from my clothes.

I jumped in again.

Yes, I had finally found the great and powerful Wizard of Oz, I’d found what I’d been looking for all along.

At least for today.

April 6, 2009

Pin It The last batch came out of the oven, their smell permeating the air of the house with the golden, choclately goodness they truly are. I slumped down into my familiar, comfortable chair and proceeded to read.

I am exhausted.

I have not strength—physically or mentally—to write anything of substance.

And so I don’t.

Social pariah.

At least for tonight; tomorrow is another matter.

For now, a comfortable bed and downy pillows beckon to me.

I will follow their bidding.

Just call me a wuss

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I took my car in for repairs on Wednesday night this week (of which I won’t give final dollar amounts to the damage done as it would turn this somewhat comedyish-like story into something more like a horror film).

Before leaving school, I’d put a note in a fellow teacher’s room asking for a ride to work the next morning, and would she please call me when she had the chance. Thinking all would be well, I decided that a backup plan was not really necessary, however, I came up with two of them—just in case.

I had decided to leave a note for my roommate before I went to bed, asking for a ride in the morning, but stating that I had a backup plan in place in the event that he would be unable to do so.

Morning came. The phone didn’t ring from my teacher-friend, and my roommate was sound asleep. I decided to use backup plan #2 since I was prepared for the possibility of both my plan and backup plan to not pan out.

I’d ride my bike to school.

It was brilliant, really. I had it all worked out and had convinced myself that this would be a great opportunity for a little more exercise and I wouldn’t have to inconvenience anyone. I could see it already…in fact, I imagined myself flying down the streets with the wind blowing through my hair—my iPod cranking out techno music to carry me all the way to work at the speed of amazing.

I went downstairs to get my bike, which (admittedly) I hadn’t ridden in over a year. To my dismay, both tires were completely flat.

What? I hadn’t thought to check the tires before this, and immediately sent about scouring the area for my pump. Unfortunately, my electric pump was still in my car at the repair shop and after a quick survey about the area, I decided I would instead take my brother’s bike. He did have pegs instead of pedals, but I was sure that I could manage riding it anyhow.

However, there was a problem…both of his tires were flat as well.

I will admit that I was feeling just a bit nervous at this point. I couldn’t imagine the embarrassment of having to call my school to inform them that I would be late and how sorry I was that I had not planned this all out better.

I checked a few more places for my pump and finally found it. Being the little wuss-type pump it was, it took about six million pumps for each tire to finally be filled. By the time I was finished, I felt like I’d just completed a major workout at the gym.

I emptied my computer bag of inessentials and then made ready to go. Already, the front tire of my bike was a bit low on air before I’d even reached the street, and I needed to give it a bit more ‘life.’ Forty pumps later the pavement flying away beneath my tires…I was on my way!

It wasn’t long before I started to feel winded, pedaling up a few hills, and clicking the gears into a much-easier pedaling position. However, my throat was already beginning to burn and the strap of my computer bag—so light a few minutes ago—was pressing up hard against my chest, making it hard to breathe properly.

It wasn’t long before an insatiable thirst seemed to engulf my innards and I was wishing that I’d brought my CamelPak instead of my computer and digital camera—what on Earth had I been thinking?

The helmet I was wearing—the one to make sure I was setting a good example to any student I might have passed when riding by my old (or new) school—was really starting to bother me, and the tie I was wearing seemed to be more of a noose about my neck—slowly choking the life out of me along with that dratted computer bag. However, I couldn’t stop, I’d lose the momentum I’d already built up and there was no way I was going to do that!

As I rode farther, my throat became raw, and the coolness of the morning was starting to freeze my fingers to the handlebars. Why hadn’t I brought gloves? Oh yeah, they were still in my car—at the repair shop.

As the songlist on my iPod blared in my ears, I suddenly came to the realization that I really didn’t like any of these stupid songs…they weren’t making me ride faster as I’d first envisioned, but were really starting to tick me off. Why in the world did I have techno music anyhow? Why hadn’t I chosen an 80’s playlist?

As I rode further, I began to think of all of my friends who WOULD have given me a ride if I had only but asked. Their names came to me like signs I passed on the side of the road. However, I hadn’t wanted to be an inconvenience to anyone.

Why had I been trying to hard to be independent?

After the first few miles, I wanted to stop and rest, but by now I couldn’t. I’d already passed the railroad tracks and was in boundaries of my old school…in the area of my old students. I didn’t want them to see their previous teacher being a wuss and walking his bike, or sitting on the side of the road gasping for life; so I rode on, regardless of the stitch in my side, the rawness of my throat, and that stupid computer which was weighing against my chest like an anvil.

I did pass by a few students as I went through the old neighborhood, but luckily I was traveling quickly enough that they didn’t recognize me before I flashed past them in a blur of blazing pedals and remix songs of Bryan Adams which continued to make me want to scream. As I pedaled faster, I began to get my second wind. By this time, I was coming nearer to my school and sometime between now and Christmas, I arrived on school grounds.

I slammed the brakes to a screeching halt and dismounted—nearly falling to the ground. My legs had turned to string and I felt dizzy. I’d ridden too far, after not riding for so long, carried too much, and pushed myself too hard.

Upon arriving to my classroom, I fell, exhausted into a chair without turning the lights on. I just wanted to sit. Even better, I wanted to fall to the floor and lie there for about a week. I felt totally drained and sweat-laden.

Before I knew it, the school day was set to begin and I had to take on the role as teacher. I took a cough drop, squared my shoulders, and gathered up my students, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened this morning.

I would love to say that after school I rode my bike across town to pick up my car, that I’d once-again conquered the distance and arrived at my destination. But, I would be lying if I did.

I accepted a ride.

Just call me a wuss.

Image garnered from here: http://www.tomichicreektradingpost.com

You only have one first day...

Pin It One of the best parts about school today was a comment I got from a fellow blogger who said, “Those fifth graders only have one first day of fifth grade. You only have one first day of your 8th year of teaching....how cool is that?”

It got me to thinking.

I thought about it all the way to school.

When the kids came in and the day began, I said something like this; “I want to know if any of you are like me. I don’t want you to raise your hand. I don’t want you to shout out if it is the same. I just want you to think about this, and decide if we’re a little bit the same…

"Yesterday, my sister and I had dinner and I thought about school.
We watched a few episodes of “Smallville” and I thought about school.
I went to bed, thinking about school.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time thinking about school.
I think I had a nightmare about school.
When I woke up and took a shower, I was thinking about school.
I went down for breakfast and thought about school.
I brushed my teeth and made my lunch thinking about school.
As I got into my car I sat there with the engine running. I thought to myself, once you pull out of your parking space, summer will officially be over and you’ll be back at school.
I took a deep breath, I smiled, and drove to school.”

Several of the kids nodded.

“I also felt just a little bit scared and excited at the same time. Scared because today is not only your first day of fifth grade…it’s my first day of fifth grade too. I’ve taught 3rd, 4th, and 6th grades, but I’ve never taught 5th before…we’re all in 5th grade for the first time together.

“I also think that some of you are a bit scared because you are at a brand-new school with new kids you still haven’t made friends with yet.

“Some of you are scared because you don’t know where the drinking fountains or bathrooms are…or if you got lost, could your find your way back to room 18? There’s something which scares us all with not knowing where we could find a bathroom if we really needed it, after all, what if you were about to explode? I just want you to know that I know what you’re feeling because I had those same feelings too…but you know what? I know where the bathroom is now, and that makes me feel a lot safer here. We’re going to take a little tour of the school to find out where these things are, so you’ll feel better too…those of you who have been at this school for years, I’m asking you to be patient as we show the new students to the school these places—after all—you’d want to know where they were in a new place as well.”

I could go on for pages about the first day, but I won’t. There’s no need to bore you with the various and sundry details which make up an entire school day.

Suffice it to say, a comment by one of the kids summed up the day, “Whoa! It’s already lunchtime? This day has flown by!”

Time flies when you’re having fun.