Back on Track.
I bought another membership at Davis Farm this year. Last year when I paid for my laminated spring-and-summer ticket to Central Massachusetts's non-stop family-fun-fest, I was almost sure that it was my last hurrah. Not so much because of Rudy, who has several more years of farm enchantment ahead of her. More because of Marley, who is now a worldly first grader, mostly jaded by hand-feeding dehydrated pellets to pushy, bleating goats. But then, this whole entire spring became my last hurrah.
What I mean is, I am currently interviewing to return to the world of high school education as a full-time English teacher. Next fall. And that means this spring is my last spring of walking Marley to the bus stop in the morning and then strolling back with Rudy and Hat Lamb while reviewing our planned errands for the day. My last spring of wandering over to Liz's house for lunch, typing up blog posts (ahem) as fast as I can while Rudy's at preschool, and packing up Pepperidge Farm Goldfish and a few clementines in an insulated lunchbag with a couple of tubs of Greek yogurt, calling that lunch, and tossing it in the car for our trip to the farm to hand-feed some pushy, bleating goats.
I know I'll have more to say over the next few months about returning to my career. I'll be transforming back into a professional person who ponders essential learning questions to help guide sullen teens through Gatsby and Lord of the Flies, who weeps beneath several stacks of mostly mediocre essays all weekend and late at night. I am looking forward to professional clothing and well-deserved lattes, to actual colleagues and every so often, to animated, thoughtful discussions about Gatsby and Lord of the Flies. I am not looking forward to a lot of other things. But as I've told many people, Todd and I are facing a financial situation in which the bills fly in like the blocks at the end of a lengthy, cleverly-played, but exhausting game of Tetris. At a certain point, you can no longer clear only a line here and there and expect to make it, if you know what I mean.
And so, Rudy and I have have been living it up while Marley toils through first grade, through morning meetings and reviews of things like Non-Text Features and Rules of Ten. I'm paying attention to slow, happy mornings that get close to the kind I had when both kids were home with me, scurrying along on trips to the grocery store and the library. Rudy and I are going to the zoo, and Liz's house, and Davis Farm as often as we can. Because for now, we can.
I know I'll have more to say over the next few months about returning to my career. I'll be transforming back into a professional person who ponders essential learning questions to help guide sullen teens through Gatsby and Lord of the Flies, who weeps beneath several stacks of mostly mediocre essays all weekend and late at night. I am looking forward to professional clothing and well-deserved lattes, to actual colleagues and every so often, to animated, thoughtful discussions about Gatsby and Lord of the Flies. I am not looking forward to a lot of other things. But as I've told many people, Todd and I are facing a financial situation in which the bills fly in like the blocks at the end of a lengthy, cleverly-played, but exhausting game of Tetris. At a certain point, you can no longer clear only a line here and there and expect to make it, if you know what I mean.
And so, Rudy and I have have been living it up while Marley toils through first grade, through morning meetings and reviews of things like Non-Text Features and Rules of Ten. I'm paying attention to slow, happy mornings that get close to the kind I had when both kids were home with me, scurrying along on trips to the grocery store and the library. Rudy and I are going to the zoo, and Liz's house, and Davis Farm as often as we can. Because for now, we can.
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