Six Weeks Left to Live

Right about mid-July it happens. Teachers, you know what I'm talking about. The panic-stricken realization that summer has taken a turn, that you are now closer to the end than the beginning.

Up until this point, you have lounged, unconcerned, through your days, leisurely drinking coffee until 10, spending hours at a time drifting around on Facebook, or even turning the pages of a real book, feeling no need to plan ahead more than a few hours. There is a sense of giddiness in those last weeks of June as the rhythm of summer vacation sets in. Hanging in the background of everything you do is the thrilling tinge of excitement that comes from getting away with something.

But then, on approximately July 27th, you glance at the calendar and realize that you are just days away from flipping the page to August. You think about what you've been doing up to this point, and realize you haven't accomplished a damn thing. So, much like someone who has just been diagnosed with a terminal illness, you make a list of the last things you want to do before your summer dies. You write down things like: paint the office, go blueberry picking, get to Lake Michigan, visit Greenfield Village, clean out closets, redecorate sun porch, visit renovated art museum, go rollerblading, take a mini-trip to Chicago, and for good measure, lose ten pounds. (BTW, this is the real list, so if anyone wants to join me in any of these endeavors, I'd love to have the company.)

Of course if you're not a teacher, you have no sympathy. And if you are a teacher, you have learned to keep your mouth shut about it at weekend barbecues with "year-rounders," for fear of being stabbed in the eye with a kabob skewer. People who get 2-4 weeks of vacation a year get pretty testy when you start complaining that you only have 6 weeks left until you go back to work. Of course, if you do slip up, you can try the "I pack a year's worth of work and stress into 9 months" defense, but no one really believes that, except maybe you. You can also try to slip in some sort of subtle comment on the importance of your work, implying that you deserve 12 consecutive weeks off simply because the work you do is a saintly contribution to humanity.

The truth is, teaching is damn hard work if you care to do a halfway decent job, and the work we do is important. And let's face it, not everyone has the patience to do it. Don't believe me? Here's a list of things I must do in my job on a regular basis:

-Answer at least a thousand questions a day, and despite the encouraging adage, most of them are indeed stupid.

-Make phone calls to tactfully inform parents that their child cheated, keeps falling asleep, bit someone, isn't a certified genius, made an obscene gesture, has a 12 percent in my class, etc.

-Say things like, "Please get out of the garbage can."

-Explain to your own child that you can't play with her right now because you have to spend your Saturday reading, editing and making encouraging comments on 150 essays at about 10 minutes apiece.

-Tell a pubescent girl that she needs to call home to get a different outfit because you're pretty sure none of the boys have heard a word you've said, and you now feel the need to disinfect her seat.

-Wait 45 painful minutes in order to be able to go to the bathroom because you had to sign 5 notes home to parents and missed the break before class.

-Break several traffic laws and cheat death twice on the way to work in order to be on time for a staff meeting, which you were sternly reminded will start at 7:40 sharp, only to arrive to find that the first 30 minutes have been set aside for everyone to enjoy yet another tropical themed breakfast. Resentfully, you don a lei and gnaw on your pineapple muffin with contempt, remarking to yourself that no one on earth should be subjected to Jimmy Buffet before 8 am.

Admit it. Not everyone could survive these daily challenges. On the other hand, I also fully acknowledge that I am lucky as all get out to have an entire season each year to decompress and get back to myself--to remember that I like to write and paint and cook and drink a glass of wine with a good meal on a weeknight. And it is a complete luxury to be a working mom and still get three months to hang out with your kid and cram them full of fun.

So now August is officially here, meaning I really only have five weeks left. Those five weeks are a little tainted, due to the fact that obligation hovers in front of me. Activities must be created, lessons must be penciled in, paper must be stapled to bulletin boards, and new pens in an array of colors must be purchased. I try not to think about it too much and remind myself to live in the moment and enjoy these last few weeks. It's a tendency of mine to live in the future while today passes me by.

So whether or not you're a teacher, join me in doing your best to savor these last weeks of summer. When your armpits are sticking together or you're feverishly scratching at a mosquito bite between your fingers, be glad that you are here now, because in a few short months you'll be chipping ice off your wipers in the dark of morning. Enjoy the fact that you don't have privacy fencing, because you may have just seen your neighbor watering his lawn in only his gold chain, chest hair and jogging shorts for the last time this season. Luxuriate in the feeling of grass between your toes, pop a warm cherry tomato from your garden, and please remain seated until the ride comes to a stop.