A young Facebook friend of mine posted this on Monday morning:
>>Migraine quelled, apartment cleaned, clothing laundered, props acquired, sound cues programmed, new lighting board installed, (stage light) lamps replaced, third quarter grades finalized, student transportation arranged, new unit prepped, tomorrow’s lunch concocted, copious amounts of caffeine consumed, bedtime wind-down now commencing . . . show week, here 39 7th and 8th-graders and I come!<<
She is a fairly new teacher who has six periods of classes having given up her prep period so as to teach a theater class at the middle school that is attached to the high school where she teaches five periods of theater arts. As you can probably guess, she is very young. You need to be to keep up that pace for months on end.
Her post reminded me of when I was teaching and how jam-packed my weekends would be during the school year. Every minute was precious, and as I mentioned in my post about the inner city café and the long wait for lunch, I could not waste such time during those teaching years. If I met friends for lunch on a Saturday, I sat with one eye on my watch, just knowing that I had to leave by 1:30 due to a still long list of chores to accomplish. On Sunday mornings, if the church service ran a bit too long, I was chomping at the bit to get out the door because I had an afternoon of grading to do. I was always planning the next hour and what I would accomplish with an eye on a list of more to do when that hour was over. There was just never enough time.
Looking back, I know I did a really good job as a teacher, but I also know that I raced through life, always counting how many more days before our next break when I could breath. In reading journals from those years I see, over and over, where I am desiring time to just sit and think.
Which brings me to now, in retirement, when I can do exactly that. Or, like on Saturday, when Terry and I could take a couple of hours to have a leisurely lunch and not fret one bit about the time. Then yesterday, a sun-drenched Sunday afternoon, when I attended a chamber music concert for two hours. Two glorious hours. Next Saturday I am planning to spend my morning at a garden show. Weekends are no longer a marathon of school work and household chores.