Prep

Psst. Whatcha doin’?

Halfway through my breakfast, it happens.

Between the sleepy household sounds of my kids giggling in the basement, my wife shuffling around in the other room, I get a pulse off of a memory. Unprovoked. Unannounced.

And like the surprisingly disturbing realization that a sleepy hand added salt instead of sugar into my coffee, the thoughts were a bit distasteful.

With an ungrateful sigh, I can’t help but throw some shade on my #teacherbrain for calling me out. But just like a willing student, I connect anyways.

It’s the tone that gets me, a sort of AM radio turned down low, starting just on the outside of my awareness and edges into my nerves. The funny thing is, I am nowhere near school thoughts. I’m lounging in the fuzzy field of ‘what day is it?’ playing with butterflies and dandelions. So, this shout out has me tripping on memories that are anachronistically untethered from any reality. Part dream. Part lived experience. Part ‘I need another coffee. ’ type of kaleidoscopic #thoughtfuel. Still I know the message that will appear in one or two more cursor blips.

A voice, maybe mine, taps out ‘time to start prepping…’

When you leave the class, how long does it take for the class to leave you?

And despite the dusty pile of June classroom artifacts still sitting in my office, with their desire to be reshelved, organized, recognized, and respected – their attention has gone unrequited. Denied. Ignored.

Until now.

Whether being a teacher is 24/7 or 9to5 job, I can’t really claim affiliation with either camp. Sipping tea on the porch with ‘always on’ teachers gets draining pretty quickly. With everything as a teachable, makeable, codeable, learnable moment, when is my coasting downtime? Absorption time? And having coffee with the 9to5’ers can get me feeling a bit self-loathing – sans cottage or major travel plans or hot yoga retreats to speak of.

What now?

For now, I am missing the middle ground where I was sitting 5 minutes ago, just happy, being. Truth is, I have a mound of prep to do. So with my chill stolen and my mindset slightly ratcheted I send my first email of the school year.