Being an adult is stressful.
This stress is often caused by spurts of rushing where we cater to daily life with a heightened sense of urgency. If I’m relaxed and content, the generation who created this mudslide of modern life will look down upon me. I try to continuously remind myself to take moments in, ya know, live in the present. I am no Buddha, and this attempt is usually followed by a resurgence of tasks that call for completion. There are times where I do get that moment I’m looking for, of mentally checking out and being proudly content with the exact time and space I’m in.
Yesterday I was reminded of the spiritually joyous nostalgia that is provided by nothing else but a day of cancelled school. A snow day, for adults too. To all my non-teacher friends and followers, let me allow you to live vicariously through my euphoria of the only moment that can ignite that toddler-esque joy we’ll die yearning for, the snow day.
Remember that excitement you experienced as a child? Wearing your pajamas inside out, maybe some other weird superstitious tradition? There was nothing I loved more than the anticipation, the build up to seeing your school’s name flash below Bob Kavochick with the capital CLOSED.
That rush of adrenaline you got in bed after seeing the affirmation that your tricks paid off. Sidenote: I used to go all out. I would wear the pajamas backwards, inside out, or on-fire if I had to. I’d do a snow dance, sing some weird ancestral ceremonial humming chant my instincts drove out of me, it seemed like it would do the trick. I remembered always seeing Taconic Hills was CLOSED, I had no idea where Taconic Hills was or who went there but I distinctly remember hating them. When Troy had school and Taconic Hills didn’t, I’d see there name flash across that bottom screen, and boy that ignite a violent response. To this day, when I see their name the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
That being said, now that I’m on the other side of the table, you’d probably imagine having a snow day as a teacher is a bit underwhelming right?
You couldn’t be more wrong. You should feel dumb if you think it’s not 10x….no….1000x more glorious to get a snow day as a teacher. It’s not even comparable. It’s a level of euphoria no situation or substance can reach. I love my job, and I love my students, but kids are exhausting, man.
After spending an average Thursday afternoon rearranging desks, breaking up arguments, and standing on your head to motivate a kid to get some make-up work done. There it no better feeling then sporadically being told by your TV that you can take the day off, the weekend is suddenly here.
Kick back, have a good stretch, get a couple more hours of rest in soldier, the fighting has seemed to slow down momentarily. Collect your thoughts, keep them wool socks on, slide across your floor to the kitchen Risky Business style and make that omelette you have the time to properly care for. Low and slow on the burner my friend, you got nothing but time right now. This is not a moment where you’re spilling coffee on your shoes, running toward the door because you need enough time to make copies and beat that one co-worker who you’d rather not speak upon that always seems to going Gutenburg on the printing press. Like, are they making a god damn novel? Whats going on? You cool with all these tree deaths on your hands? You’ve single-handedly melted a glacier, I hope you’re happy.
Yeah, you don’t have to deal with them today.
And I’m not even gonna get into the kids, because you get a full day of peace where you can debrief and decompress. You’d be mid lecture right now, so take a breath, dot your I’s and cross your T’s, and watch whatever movie you please. You deserve it.
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