School’s Back in Session

Now that school is starting, it’s time for me to give my best friend and old college roomate a call. We shared some carefree, happy years as I studied business and she studied early childhood education. To the casual observer, it would appear that my motivation was avoiding Friday classes while hers was passing time cutting shapes out of construction paper. In fact, she was building complicated lesson plans while I was studying chapters with titles like, “Management by Walking Around.” Seriously.

Now she’s an elementary school teacher (not in Birmingham) with two kids, married to a fellow educator. For  all these years we’ve exchanged chiding remarks at the beginning and end of each school year. During most of this time I’ve worked without extended summer or holiday breaks that she enjoys, having to ration precious vacation days to cover actual vacations as well as home projects, preparing for company, holiday decorating, and any form of scrapbooking. She and I talk smack in the way only old friends who know each other’s secrets can.

First day of school, I call her early: “WAKE UP! Get your rear out of that bed and get moving. Your summer naps are over, sister!  It’s time to get these taxpayer dollars back to work. Let’s see, I’ll be  heading into my sixth meeting of the day by the time you shoo the last kid out the door. With any luck, I’ll finally be packing up my desk when you’re clearing off your dinner table and watching the evening news.”

Her usual voice mail in reply: “It’s me, starting another year of molding the young minds you’ll depend on your old age. I’ve spent the last two days putting up bulletin boards and arranging reading centers. I wonder, will you be spending any of your evenings taking up tickets at ballgames? Chaperoning a dance? Answering phone calls from demanding parents? Oh nevermind, you’re probably out right now having a $5 cup of coffee.”

The last day of school she’s quick to call me again for payback, greatly exagerrating for effect: “Aaah, we dismissed early today for summer break . Guess I’ll sleep in tomorrow morning and take my time figuring out what I should do with the afternoon. Shall I watch television? Read a book?” (She knows this cuts me the  most). “Or maybe I’ll take a long nap. I mean, the summer is ten weeks long but will it be enough?”

Finally, we catch up with one another via cell over a summer weekend. “I would ask what you’ve been doing,” I say sarcastically, “but I know you’ve probably just been eating bon bons. Surely you can’t begrudge me my latte when it’s clear I’m developing a vitamin D deficiency from living under flourescent lights.” 

“Oh, cry me a river,” she laughs. “If you think a teacher’s schedule sounds so easy, just imagine spending every day rushing through 30 minute lunches, surrounded by runny-nosed kids asking you to help them open their ketchup packets. You think your kids demand your time? Imagine hearing your name called all day from all directions.”

This final retort shuts me up. Some days I can hardly portion out my own kids’ food and endure the subsequent rounds of, “Where’s my napkin?”, ”I dropped my fork,” ”But mine has mustard on it,” and, “Ewww, what’s that?” as I try to gulp down my own meal.  I would simply never make it long-term in the early childhood environment.

Thank goodness for all the educators out there, including my old roommate.  These are the pillars of society who provide instruction, maintain order, and build the structure. We parents can reinforce the kids and challenge them to learn, but it’s the teachers who are tasked with explaining abstract concepts and keeping a classroom of individual minds engaged for hours every day. And of course there are the ketchup packets.

When you consider all that, it’s apparent the school breaks are well deserved.