On the Other Side of the Mason-Dixon

Orientation starts tomorrow, and aside from my North Carolina driver's licence, I'm pretty close to being a Yankee again. In the midst of all the anxiety about all these new chapters in my life (excuse the cliche, I've been in the car too long today), I'm finding myself nostalgic for certain parts of good ol' Dixie. Shall I list what I miss?

• Chick-fil-A. Especially on Sunday, when no one in the country can have it.
• Fried pickles. A Southern delicacy.
• 80+ degrees. The weather up here is equivalent to Carolina December, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
• Ya'll. Nothing but the cheesy "you guys" or vague and cold plural "you."
• Four (or more) different country radio stations. Or any radio stations, given that I've been in upstate New York for the past week.
• People of the South. I mean the people I knew, not the strangers. I miss my friends.
• Leisurely driving. Maybe use a turn signal, maybe don't. Slow down in the passing lane so people can read your vanity plate (every other car has one). People drive too fast in Massachusetts to make vanity plates worth it.

I'm sure there's more than that, but it's all my tired brain can handle right now. Back to being a student tomorrow.

Two Weeks Notice

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to inform you of my intent to resign from my position of summer laziness at the close of business on Monday, September 6, 2011 (which ironically falls on Labor Day, a national holiday on which no business aside from relaxing with friends and choice beverages will take place). In spite of the many positive aspects of my current situation, I have been offered the opportunity to go into unspeakable amounts of debt so that I can do nothing but read and highlight what I read without break for the next three years of my life. I have thoroughly enjoyed the time I have spent skimming shallow beach novels, watching trashy TV On Demand, taking health risks by absorbing UVA/UVB rays, and sleeping without setting an alarm and/or allowing natural light to wake me.

I will continue to faithfully execute the duties of this post for the remainder of my contract, including the previously planned trip to Painted Post, NY where I will close out my partnership with the late summer sun and tanning season and shadow the carefree retirement lifestyle of my parents. I appreciate the lack of structure and blissfully empty days with which you have provided me, and leave with nothing but the utmost respect and gratitude of my time here.

Sincerely,
The Lazy Bum

P.S.- Do I have to go?

Wait, I'm Not a Teacher?

Hold up. Looking at the date when I posted that last blog brought on the heavy realization that I am NOT starting the teacher workdays with the rest of my old colleagues and TFA corps members. As much as I know that I do not belong in the classroom, it's a hard thing to let go of. It's losing a part of my identity. It's changing the verb tense I use when people ask what I do.

I was a teacher.

A few weeks ago, I was browsing the book section in Target for my next summer read. I had tried to convince myself to read dry, boring books to prepare for school (hah) and ended up "just looking" under the Top Beach Reads category. An older women saw me and ended up recommending a book she'd just read, recommended to her by a stranger in a book store. We started chatting and I mentioned that I had a lot of free time having the summer off because...

I paused, contemplated what I would say next and proceeded.

"I teach first grade."

Teach. Not taught. The woman instantly lit up, and I instantly went crazy in my head. Why would I lie about that? I don't WANT to teach anymore. And yet I was still longing to hold on to that part of myself, even to some stranger in Target.

Of course, the woman had been a first grade teacher for 30 years. Of course, she told me that she would say many prayers for me that I had a great class roster this year (we are in South Carolina, by the way). Of course, she had to tell me that she could tell "by the look in my eyes that I love it."

You mean the look of sheer panic at what I just told you? The utter confusion of why I would pretend to still be a teacher to someone I've never met before? The frantic damage control with which I acted after I blurted out that lie?

Oh right. Panic, confusion, damage control. All key characteristics of teachers... I see where you got that from now.

Back To School, Remixed

Teacher becomes the student.

Sorry for the cliche, and sorry for the wait. Blogging has been the least of my concerns this summer (clearly) for some very simple reasons, the biggest reason being that I don't really have anything to blog about. There have been a couple things here and there that have grabbed my attention, but blogging about them would have gotten in the way of my main goal of not taking anything too seriously. Some of those things I'll touch on later. Most of them I won't.

But today, reality struck and my brain needs to get back in the swing of things. As my mother so lovingly reminded me in a text the other day:

"One 24 word blog in over a month, that is REALLY pathetic. I hope you remember how to read and write when you go to law school."

I hope so too. I got my schedule and section for classes and finally realized that I'm moving to Boston and starting school in just two weeks. The weird thing is that I'm having a hard time registering the fact that this year, back to school doesn't mean shamelessly buying Crayola 24-packs for thirteen cents in Target. It doesn't mean having teaching nightmares about leave hundreds of pounds of raw meat in my classroom all summer (which happened last year). The bright-eyed, bushy-tailed student this year is ME, not the little six-year olds scuffing their shoes down the hallway.

It's a weird shift to make. The difference is that instead of freaking out about being ready, I'm surprisingly chilled out. I opened my first Word document in over a month yesterday. The extent of my prep work has been working on my tan, getting over 10 hours of sleep a night, and reading one nonfiction book. Even now, with a lot to do, I have no checklist, no charts, no spreadsheets. I haven't had any law school nightmares, although I did have a teaching one (weird, right?). Maybe it's becoming impossible to faze me after teaching first grade (which seems unlikely, but I'll take it).

Forgotten Gem

I miss those little ones. Even when they forget the words. Even when they change what I think of when I think of Nelly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkJSPL_1uLQ