Happiness

"He was always a stupidly optimistic man. I mean, I'm sure it came as a great shock to him when he died."-- Clue

I spend a great deal of my energy avoiding being an optimist. I don't share details of my life with many people, because i feel it brings about a sense of optimism that I might have. If I share my happy, it might make me believe that only the best can now occur. If I believe that, and something bad happens... I don't know.

Still, after a weekend like I had, with so many joys and so many great things... I cant help but wish I could allow myself to revel in my happiness, and giggle and gossip about all of the things that I am thinking.

It was a good weekend... nay great weekend... and I will quietly smile and pretend that I am not being optimistic.

::Insert sappy title here::

As a writer, one always looks for symbolism. We see it in movies and the trashy books we read, and of course, if we are lucky or delusional, we can see it our own lives.

My cat symbolized stability in my transient life. While I had her, i lived in four different apartments, had five different roommates, dated (seriously) three different men, went from working 70 hour weeks to having summers and weekends off. My life was in constant flux after I graduated from college, and yet Dilly was always there. She would always curl up in my lap or the crook of my arms while I slept. She would meow a hello. She never judged my crazy rants or my tears over something that probably didn't warrent tears. She was always a faithful friend and traveled with me wherever I went.

Upon her death Monday night (really early tuesday morning), I felt as though my stability had fallen out from under me. I looked in my head to the English training I had received to try and figure out what it means when a symbol ceases to exist.

Sadly my pondering needs to end while I run to the train.

"You can't scare me, I teach."

I am tired. I am tired. I am tired. I am tired.

We're five weeks out until the end of the year, and if another teenager whines at me I may throw myself off the roof of my school building.

There are those in the world who think teachers have it easy. We are able to take three months off at the end of the year. We get a week off for winter and spring break. Our day *technically* ends at 3:45.

The reason for all of these perks? They won't let us beat children anymore. Just kidding. Seriously though, we deal with kids for six straight hours. Rarely is there ever a point in our day when we aren't dealing with our students. Students use our classroom at lunch to get make up work. We need to make sure that we do uniform corrections as we walk down the halls during prep. In the moments where we don't have students, we are working to ensure we have enough supplies, grades done, or lessons planned. While our day ends when the bell rings, it doesn't really. We have grading to do. We have more lessons to plan. We have students who need extra help or a chance to make up assignments. We take work home. We work several hours into the night in order to help ourselves through to the next day.

So screw those who think teachers have it easy... I am tired. I am tired. I am tired.

June 20th can't come soon enough.