Grad School
The guy behind me at Starbucks is on the phone. He is young, handsome; 15 years my junior.
“They called me for a teaching position, but I can’t right now. The reality is that I’m finishing grad school. Yeah, a psych degree,” I only hear one side of the conversation.
I’m a teacher—I’m in grad school.
“I’m looking for something part-time. I just don’t have the time.”
‘Oh boy,’ I think, ‘having time is such a luxury.’
“That would be perfect. Please, yes—keep me posted. That better alines with what I’m looking for.”
I want to turn around and ask him… well, a lot of things—about time management, housing, children, work/life balance, continuing education, and on and on…
I don’t.
Instead, I finish up the conclusion on the latest paper I’m writing.