Summer Brain Drain: Part Duh

Well, it's here.  We're going on our third day of Schoollessness, a condition not far-removed from Lawlessness, at least in my house.

Since school let out on Thursday, we have:

1) Taken a three-hour hike up and down Pyramid Mountain (the Matterhorn of New Jersey, IMHO) during which my kids said, "Mom, what are you complaining about? We've been walking for three hours and you don't see US whining, do you?" (Okay, the 8-year-old 'tween said this, but his five-year-old sis seconded the motion.)

2) Had four playdates.

3) Played with the 17-year-old nephew football player in the grandparent's pool until the 17-year-old nephew football player said, "I need to lie down."

4) Made a pulley system on the backyard jungle gym @ 7 AM two mornings in a row.

5) Eaten 3 gallons of ice cream and 15 s'mores (thanks, grandma).

I could go on.

I'm tired, and yesterday, I actually counted the days until September 9th. 

But the season is rubbing off on me, and I'm not talking just about the patch of poison ivy rash I have on my left knee.

Clicking on the link to Blogger today took monumental effort.  Going up to Montclair State yesterday on some professional business freaked me out.   I tried to envision myself dressed in my Professor Uniform (wool pants and tailored shirt), and I got itchy (and not just on my left knee).  I went to the library during my precious free time yesterday, found a book I'd wanted on assessment in secondary schools, thought better of it, and went to the periodicals room to read People.

If there's anyone whose inner clock ticks to the school year beat, it's mine.  I was a kid/young adult on that calendar for 23 years.  Then I taught.  When I left teaching to write and edit for Instructor magazine, we actually got busier in the summer, as teachers began submitting their ideas and articles to us when they were done with school.  I loved that job beyond all reason, but my system went into shock.  There was rarely any time to, well, reflect.  And as you know, I like to reflect.

Seriously, in what we used to call Industry (everything outside of education), there were no end-of-year parties or hugs of thanks or crayon-scrawled cards proclaiming us The Best Teacher Alive. There was no sitting in an empty classroom sighing with both relief and poignant remembrance. In Industry (especially these days), cleaning out one's desk is a euphemism for getting laid off, not an opportunity to alphabetize sight-word flashcards. 

Regardless of whether a teacher "works" in the summer or not (and most do), having a light at the end of a tunnel is both a gift and, probably, a necessity.  A necessity because in such an intense job, where human interaction is so vital, intense, and unavoidable, you need some time to step back and look away so you can step forward and see.