Weekend

Now that I am writing full time, weekends do not mean the same. When I was teaching, those two days were paperwork, laundry, mucking out the house and recharging. Occasionally I met with students, did a few home visits got involved in an activity with kids, but I tried to keep that time to sleep, spend time with my husband, dog and thinking about my own needs. Peeing whenever I wanted was a big thing. There is no profession like teaching. Those who have never done it really don’t get it. You take things to work, from food to clothes. You rob from your house, your personal budget to meet the needs of kids. You cry over them, pray, laugh and worry. It doesn’t matter how old, young, disabled, gifted, difficult or angelic they are. Rich kids have needs, so do poor kids and parents all over do their absolute best, so there is no criticism of anyone in this, but teaching is different. People talk about the breaks, the time off and act like that makes it easy. Well between classes, planning, prep and medical treatments- yes if possible teachers put those off until breaks, our summers are gone. For me, I spent the time writing, playing in my head and letting my imagination go. During the school year I had to keep it tucked up under my heart and letting it Free was an amazing feeling. But even under all of that, students called, stopped by and had needs. Summers off is an odd system for people who use their vacation to plan, their time off to collect for their classrooms. I am telling you, teaching is different.