I love what I do, some days more than others, of course, but even after a decade, I bounce into work in the morning. I hope I have another 15 years of this left in me. It’s gratifying work, and I know I’m fortunate to have it.
No one appreciates it when someone in my profession whines. (I don’t appreciate whining period.) That said, when we let out so much as a job-related sigh within earshot of most people, three things get held against us: June, July, and August.
I've figured this much out in my ten years in this field: T. S. Eliot was off by 5 months. September, not April, is in fact the cruelest month.
Plans for Labor Day weekend? Sorry, I can't make it. Labor Day is Christmas Eve; I’m Santa Claus, and the rest of the month is a prolonged Christmas morning. Sexy problem in this economy, I know. Sorry.
Where I live, summer weather stretches well into October – minus the humidity. September in the DC metro area is my idea of heaven – shorts, sandals, sunshine, temps in the 70s and low 80s. What’s not to like? In my profession, though, September taunts. I used to love September – I was born in the middle if it, after all. And when I catch glimmers of it, I love it still. September shines in the window all cloudless and blue. But the avalanche of immediate responsibilities yanks down the room darkening shades without mercy.
Contact the parents before the darlings lose their focus. Get to know them, what they know, and how they learn best. Keep them engaged and meeting benchmarks. Build a database of new names, contact information, birthdays, and when possible, back stories. In September, I may talk to the darlings’ parents more than I talk to my own. And all Sandy and Wally want to do is wish their firstborn a happy birthday. Well, had I been born three weeks earlier, they could call with birthday wishes and maybe even see me in person on the day. As it is, I could call them back in the wee hours when I’m puzzling over a darling or a lesson. Ooh, I’ll save that idea for next year and hope it helps me then. Hang in there Mum and Dad. Know that I love you and I’ll call as soon as I turn that Columbus Day corner and catch my breath.
That Green Day song got it wrong, too. Don’t let me fall sleep until September ends; I've got too much to do.
One birthday gift from my doctor was a painful conversation about cholesterol. I can't afford to be sedentary – even though I had planned to spend September harnessed to my chair, which is tethered to my desk, which is ensconced in the windowless cinderblock microcosm known as my classroom. At least in there I’m protected from hurricane season. Still, this is the year I lower my cholesterol, so I’ve decided to read EJ and Classroom Notes Plus while a spin bike and I torture each other. (Working my behind off on a couple of levels).
Seriously, though, life is good. With most of June, and July and August to spend at my discretion, it's just time to get back to work. And September will go on without me. When you see it, please give it my love. I’ll take my glimmers of its beauty when I can. Who knows, maybe my next classroom will have a window.
