Blech. My summer is almost over, and I feel as though I’ve only now begun to recover from last school year. Alas, in one week, I’ll be back in the classroom preparing for your beautiful teenagers and all of their angsty glory. And while there is some excitement about returning – I am most definitely a creature of routine — this is the first July in a while where I am decidedly not ready. I require more time!
Ask educators who taught through the pandemic craziness about their experiences, and you’ll probably hear similar horror stories. Having to teach kids online or in-person, or maybe both groups simultaneously, without shared materials and traditional resources — and always in masks and socially distanced — proved more exhausting than I think any of us realized until we were finished. I averaged 10 hours of sleep every night in June, as if healing from a long-suffering illness, and watched so many episodes of “Call the Midwife” I’m basically a certified OB/GYN who can manage her own bed sores.
And my big plans to get a jump-start on returning to a normal schedule completely fell by the wayside, as just the notion of opening textbooks and calendars brought on stress headaches and the occasional gag reflex. Zoom only intensifies my recently acquired PTSD, triggering the need for a dark corner, aggressive thumb-sucking, and passionate pleas for divine mercy. Hail Mary!
Even vacationing failed to rejuvenate my spirit, thanks to an absurd amount of construction traffic and airline snafus. Can y’all say “jet leg?” How about “road rage?” Stupid travel!
So, as my summer draws to a close, I’m muttering “blech.”
Peace out.
