It's Just Another Manic Monday...

For as long as I have been teaching, I have always had grand dreams of "reclaiming" my Sunday afternoons and evenings. Despite some very noble efforts to reinvent Sunday as a day of rest, it still seems that until June 20th, the next several Sundays will remain days of work. However, I know that I can hang on until then!! When June 20th rolls around, not only will I have my precious Sunday back (if only for eight delicious weeks), but every day of Summer feels like Sunday afternoon! I am definitely looking forward to the respite that summer offers, but I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself. Though the time between now and June 2oth is but a small gap, there is a lot that is bound to happen.

And here are some rough thoughts about a Monday Morning in May.

A Monday Morning in May

How come 5:30 didn't seem so early in September?

I'm slow to wake on a Monday morning in late May

The alarm clock wails, and wails, and wails

I extend an arm to reach for it, but I fumble, clumsily

My fingers pass over the buttons as if they are reading Braille and they do not understand

And thankfully--finally--I hit it.

Snooze.

Fifteen minutes.

The first five feel like forever

And I can feel myself getting sucked into a dark and encompassing sleep.

Soon I'm falling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

This is an exceptional state of slumber.

I'm not even thinking about whether or not the photocopier will jam this morning

Or that I need to sign out the TV for G-Block.

In this kind of sleep it's like I've never heard of an agenda,

a 7:30 parent meeting, or NEAS&C.

Before I get a chance to meet the Mad Hatter,

the sound calls from far away

And again, that alarm clock is wailing, and wailing, and wailing

And again, I reach, fumble, and finally hit it.

Snooze.

But before I can enjoy those first five minutes,

I feel a finger poking me gently--but with certainty--beneath my ribs.

"Are you going to get in the shower?"

Though his eyes are closed, he smiles like he's some kind of Cheshire cat.