Oh Summer, Where Can You Be? A Teacher's 30-Day Countdown

It's official. Summer break begins on June 13th, and I have posted a countdown on the whiteboard in my classroom because I'm getting antsy. Frankly, I have packed my slacks and high heels away in a corner on the top shelf of my closet, and pulled out my jeans and ponytail holders. It's only the beginning of May, but I'm already fidgeting more than a little bit. I've never been an addict, but from what I've seen in movies and on t.v. I feel like a fiend looking for my next hit. I'm nervous and jumpy, my arms have an incurable itch, and I find myself looking over my shoulder as if someone is watching me.

The sun is shining, the rain seems to have subsided at least for the time being, and I'm already imagining myself skipping through Macy's on a Monday morning without a care in the world. The students think they are the only ones looking forward to long, blissful days free from homework and class rules, but teachers have far more to gain. Who do they think is creating the lesson plans, teaching, grading, and recording the grades?? Oh, and don't forget the frequent report cards and standardized tests, countless faculty meetings, and incorrigible students.

Once upon a time I heard that summer break had been created for rural families that needed their children's assistance during harvest time on the farm. That may well be true, but I think summer break was invented for teachers. If teachers worked year-round like nearly everyone else on the planet, there wouldn't be any teachers to speak of because they would all jump ship mid-year. The only thing that keeps teachers coming back every September is summer. The brain with all of its wisdom and mercy allows you to forget the little angel that called you a bitch when you told him he had to stay in at recess to complete his classwork.

Taking three months off allows teachers to rejuvenate, replenish, and forget every thing that happened the year before. Most teachers experience this short-lived euphoria on weekends during the school year. Friday may be hellish and long, but by Friday evening you have completely forgotten the seed of Satan that told you that you were acting like you needed some dick. Sadly, I've gotten to the point where the weekends don't sustain me anymore; my tolerance level has increased, and I feel like I'm chasing the dragon.

I feel like the days are longer, the behaviors have escalated, and the students have turned off the auto-pilot switch that was activated way back in September because normal requests have become more arduous, time-consuming, and often ignored. The kids whine more, fight more, and talk back more which in turn makes me talk more, talk louder, and evoke threats (like taking them home with me for a week). My recurring admonition is to go home and smother their parents with kisses and hugs, thankful that they weren't born to me because I have no choice but to assume that the same disrespectful, obstinate behavior is duplicated at home. Some students take great pride in the fact that they are dipped in Teflon, deflecting scorn and punishment. At the end of the day, all I can do is maintain my sanity by stalking the calendar, and continually reminding myself that the end is near.

And I'm not the only one. Fellow teachers greet each other with the current countdown day, as if spreading cheer and good tidings. Regardless of age, race, or tenure, all educators bond over the perils of teaching and our concentrated work schedule. We wish each other fantastic weekends, and commiserate over long gaps between holidays.

Every year before the new school year starts, I eagerly scan the school calendar like a child eyeballing gifts underneath a Christmas tree, mentally etching the holidays and breaks in the conscious and subconscious (for back-up) parts of my brain. Luckily, every dog and teacher has his day. For example, when I became employed in my current school district, I quickly realized that we would receive a week-long furlough for Thanksgiving. Although I was ecstatic, I found it quite curious because when I was a child, we were only off on Thanksgiving and the following Friday.

Additionally, Memorial Day has historically been the only holiday in May, but it turns out that we're going to get the Friday off before Memorial Day in lieu of President Lincoln's birthday (which used to be in February). Bam! A 3-day weekend turned into four days by the click of a keyboard stroke, and I am not complaining. Someone got the right idea, and decided to not only include new holidays (i.e. Chinese New Year), but spread out tried-and-true favorites to combat the weariness and fatigue of May and distant June.