Today is my first day of Winter Break during my first year of teaching. I have a solid two weeks that will be free from asking kids to quiet down, staring daggers at the ones who won't, and "holding it" because there's no time to get to the bathroom between classes. Yes, I have some work to do during break, but most of it is the fun kind. I "have" to read 11 chapters about how to teach writing, but I am quite fond of the authors of these books. There are 60 pieces of writing that I need to grade from my 7th graders, but I'm really looking forward to it. The topic of the write was "Mrs. McWilliams's Very Bad Day," so all of the students wrote about a super bad day that I might have. I am as egocentric as most people, so it's fun to read about myself. Plus, I get to laugh at how much or how little the students seem to actually know me and my life. There are a few other random items on my checklist, but I really won't mind doing any of them. I stayed at school hours later than most teachers would on the eve of two weeks off so that I could finish all the mundane grading, score entering, and worksheet key making that needed to be done. The custodian--Tony--who cleans my room each night checked in on my about three times. I think each time I told him that I would be leaving soon and every time he would laught and tell me that, No, I wouldn't. I finally left around 6pm. The only other car in the parking lot was a fellow English teacher who is also in her first year of teaching.
When I was younger, I didn't really mind having projects and reading assignments to work on during breaks. I don't like to be bored, so having something to do was kind of nice. No, being excited about having "homework" during break does not indicate that I have reached adulthood. Here is what does:
Last night--when I probably should have been hooping and hollering about this vacation, which has been the carrot on the end of my stick since August--I picked up take-out and fell asleep at 8:30pm. And, I didn't even care. It felt so good to sleep. I woke up this morning at 6:45am. Now, I generally do not sleep ridiculously late, but I figure it's only respectable to sleep until at least 8am on a Saturday.
To reclaim some of my youth, though, I had ice cream for breakfast. Right before my daily cup of coffee...
Geez.
1 comment:
Don't I know this feeling. I remember telling my kids one day that I went to a concert the night before and explaining how I thought I could handle getting a couple hours less of sleep on a school night. I then explained how I nearly wanted to cry at 9:30 during the show because I realized I wouldn't be going to bed soon.
We've become old people, Lisa.
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