Tomorrow, I officially return to what I lovingly refer to as the nut house—also known as my workplace. It’s not just any workplace, mind you, but one that’s home to the delightful chaos of my students, whom I sometimes lovingly, sometimes exasperatedly, call “the crazies.” However, there’s a bit of a plot twist this time around. My students, in their infinite luck, don’t actually return until next week. Lucky them. This week, though, is what we call Teacher Work Week. Sounds productive and satisfying, right? Well, let me walk you through what this actually entails.
The first three days are supposed to be for us to clean our rooms, prepare lesson plans, and wrap up the grades for Quarter 2. Sounds straightforward, but in practice, it’s anything but. Cleaning my room will probably consist of rediscovering forgotten stacks of papers, random trinkets left behind by students, and a couple of “what even is this?” items that have somehow migrated to my desk. The lesson planning? Oh, that’s always a thrill—a mixture of juggling curriculum requirements, trying to make lessons engaging (or at least tolerable), and figuring out how to keep the attention of students who may or may not be fully awake. And then there’s inputting grades, which is somehow always an exercise in frustration because something inevitably goes wrong with the system or I realize I’m missing a grade here or there.
But wait, it gets better. The last two days of the week are reserved for what can only be described as a marathon of meetings with Admin. Yes, Admin—the folks who seem to have an uncanny ability to make even the simplest of topics stretch out into hours of discussion. I can already picture it now: sitting through PowerPoint slides filled with buzzwords, nodding at “actionable goals,” and pretending to be fully engaged while secretly daydreaming about the weekend. If there’s anything less fun than grading papers, it’s definitely a five-hour meeting about school policies I’ve already heard a dozen times.
If I’m being honest, though, I’d much rather have an extra week off like my students do. I mean, who wouldn’t? An additional week at home would be such a gift right now. I could spend more time resting—something I desperately need after the whirlwind of the last few months. My house could certainly use a bit more love and attention; it’s amazing how quickly things pile up when life gets busy. More importantly, though, I’d have the chance to focus on helping my family.
My oldest is still healing from the car accident we were in recently, and I want to be there for them as much as possible. Recovery takes time, and as a mom, it’s hard not to feel torn when I can’t give them my full attention. And then there’s my husband. He’s still recovering from two fractured ribs, and while he’s doing his best, I know he’s prone to overdoing it. I’d feel so much better being home to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t push himself too hard. I know they’re both strong, but I still want to be there to help shoulder the load.
Instead, I’ll be heading back to the Looney Bin, where the chaos is different but still very real. Don’t get me wrong—I love what I do. I love my students, my colleagues, and even some of the craziness that comes with teaching. But after everything we’ve been through recently, I just wish I had a little more time. Time to breathe. Time to recharge. Time to focus on what really matters.
So, here’s to a week of cleaning, planning, grading, and surviving endless meetings. Here’s to coffee-fueled mornings, afternoons spent wrestling with printer jams, and evenings wondering how I managed to get it all done. It’s not glamorous, but it’s my reality. And even though I’m dreading the grind, I know I’ll get through it—one step, one day, one crazy moment at a time.
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