Alice Walker said: "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.... People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back" (The Color Purple, 1982).
It's so true. Lately, perhaps because it's the end of the school year, I'm SICK of grading papers, and telling kids to stop talking, and I'm yearning more than ever for sun/surf/sand/beach/pleasure reads/summer. Instead, I find myself too easily complaining about a class or whining about lesson plans. I'm avoiding, ignoring, rushing, overlooking. Certainly, there are
Wednesday, I took a step back. To re-assess, to remember, and to reconvene my thoughts and the various parts of my life. I didn't go to school. Instead, we went up to Laguna, where Tim and Chris dove, and I kayaked and read. We spent the afternoon in the July-esque summer sun, lazing on the beach between bouts in the ocean. Serene and necessary, it was the perfect introduction into what I believe will be yet another California summer-to-remember...
However, if I was granted three wishes, I would never wish for a year-round, work-free summer. I thoroughly and passionately love my work, and I'm proud of the things I do in the classroom. The exhaustion and weariness and frustration and bewilderment are feelings I would wish for in any profession...without them, I believe it's impossible to find and nurture compassion, exhilaration, pride, and fulfillment.
That being said (and as much as I will, as always, inevitably miss my kids and my classroom and the in-depth discussions about quality literature during July and August), I am all too aware of my current eagerness for summer. The warm Carlsbad air and the smooth right breaks at Terramar are beautiful yet taunting reminders of the days that lie mere weeks away. I am painstakingly ready for Operation Summer: 2010. Mid-afternoon ocean swims. A thin layer of sand covering the living room carpet and couch. Sunburned shoulders and sore paddling arms. The front door yawning open at 1:00 PM on a Tuesday; inviting bright sunshine and entertaining the blissful sounds of Van Morrison. Ceviche made with freshly-caught halibut. Law and Order re-runs in the late afternoon. And the list goes on...
But for now, it's still May. State testing might be over, but we're still in the thick of Julius Caesar...(he only just died, after all-- my kids have yet to experience the real wrath of Mark Antony). Research papers have barely begun, and the 11th grade creative writing unit is around the corner. The successes and pitfalls of prom haven't occurred, and the yearbooks are still at the print shop. The summer weather might be emerging, but it's not quite time to spend weekdays at the beach...instead, it's time to dig in my heels and grade the Gatsby essays. To polish thesis statements and re-teach the Works Cited page. To make a kid switch his controverial research topic, since "legalizing marijuana for medical purposes" is no longer appropriate after he was busted for possession of drug paraphernalia last week. It's time to lose my words when a former student comes in at lunch to proclaim he read East of Eden because "you said it was good, so I trusted that." To laugh out loud at the variety of classroom bonding inside jokes that exist within the walls of my room. To award second period with donuts, because Wednesday's sub said he would "make a copy of this class to teach all day long" if he could. To remember these are the last weeks with these kids, ever. And when I remember that, suddenly four weeks seems like not enough time at all...
You must live in the present,
launch yourself on every wave,
find your eternity in each moment.
-Thoreau
