Like it does this time every year, school started today. Kindergarten mommies dried their eyes and stalked school buses to school. Grade school kids shlepped off in new shoes that will last a month. And parents of teenagers everywhere rejoiced at having the surliness directed at someone else.
Yep, those desks are filling up, and for the first time in 23 years, my rear end isn't in one of them: not the little chairs for the learners; not the big desk for the teacher. I'm not in school. And it's the weirdest feeling.
Despite the fact that I gave my notice more than a month ago, my subconscious hasn't come to terms with my new reality. Recurrent school nightmares plague me, ones in which I am both student and teacher and failing at both. In my waking hours, school supplies displays give me the willies and I was pretty freaked out while visiting the school my mom works at. From what I understand, the symptoms are similar to that of post traumatic stress disorder. Who knew?
Does this mean I'll never teach again? Maybe. Maybe not. But I'd like to try doing something that doesn't completely consume me, just to see what it's like. What form that job will take, I have no idea. I'll keep you posted.
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