The Dread of August

Everyone knows about (and is, quite rightly, jealous of) a teacher’s summer vacation. Eight uninterrupted weeks in which to do whatever we choose. Some people travel to new places and see new things; some travel to familiar places and see old friends and family; some stay home and work on their house or read lots of books; some have other jobs and other lives (I worked on an organic farm in New Hampshire for 13 summers); some (I like to call them “overachievers”) read school-related books and think about the year to come. But all of us have eight weeks of a slower pace, waking up each morning wondering what to do that day, and lots and lots of “me” time.

What you may not be aware of, however, is the dread of August. When you turn the calendar from July to August, something happens, and it isn’t good. In June, you have the whole summer ahead of you. In July you are well into whatever you are doing. But August… poor August. August means that it’s all over. You have only two weeks left. You have to start thinking soon, getting back to a schedule soon, wearing respectable clothes soon. The advent of August affects people differently. Some get moody and grumpy, others depressed. For me it is the anxiety dream. Like clockwork, on August 1st I begin to have anxiety dreams about school. For many years the dreams focused on classroom management. Holy terrors would take over my class and wreak havoc. But once I got classroom management under control in my real world, it was no longer a source of anxiety for me, so no longer a focus of my dreams. No, the dreams turned to the one thing that I truly had no control over: my classroom when I wasn’t there. I don’t mean the kids, I mean the room itself. My dreams usually had me returning from break or a weekend, and finding that Camp or Extended Day had destroyed my room (in reality, they are MUCH better now than they were when I first started to work there). One time I dreamed that my teammates had all come in over the weekend (true), redesigned our entire curriculum (possible), and reorganized my room (they wouldn’t DARE!).

Last night, a day ahead of schedule, I had my first anxiety dream. I dreamed that I came in one morning to find that the risers in my room had been removed. In reality my classroom had no desks, rather tables and chairs scattered about, a rug in front of the chalkboard, and the risers with my chair and white board in front of it. The risers were where I did all of my teaching, where the kids would start and end their day, where they would go when they finished a task. They were the source of calm and structure in my room. They were where I could easily control my class. And in my dream they were suddenly gone (as were all of my teammates’ risers as well). Some sweeping decision had obviously been made, and the maintenance guy had removed my risers. In my dream I was getting ready to abandon my class (all of two kids… not sure where the rest of the troops were ) so I could storm down to my boss’s office and raise holy hell.

At that point I woke up, heart pounding and quite agitated. It took me a moment to realize that that dream was totally out of place. I don’t have to worry about August 1st, because this year time doesn’t really have the same meaning. I am taking a break from teaching, gave up that room, turned in my keys to the school (well, not really, but everybody and their grandmother has keys to that school!). I am on my Gap Year, which is a whole year of a slower pace and “me” time.

The dreams I should be having, and without a doubt will appear, will involve missing flights, lost luggage, not being able to find a place to stay or something to eat. Next year I will have to let myself be at the mercy of strangers, and let myself be okay with just going with the flow. I will have to relinquish the control I have over much of my life and what happens to me on a day-to-day basis.

In thinking about it, maybe that dream wasn’t so out of place. It was about losing the source of control that I have. Maybe it was just trying to get me ready to let go of the structure, the organization, the control next year. That will surely be the toughest thing for me in my travels. I’d like to say I’m ready for it, but my dreams may be telling me otherwise. Perhaps I should carry around a teacher plan book (blank, of course) to at least appear to have some semblance of control over what happens each day.

As it is still July, though, I need to get to the tough job of deciding what I will do with the blank slate that is today.

It cost HOW much?

I got the first of my many plane tickets today, this one from New York to London. It cost a whopping $7.50. Yes, that was seven dollars and fifty cents. Our dear friend Tommy the Wig (He is a wig-maker, hence the name. If you have seen Wicked or any opera at the Met in the last five years, you've seen his great work.) said he would give me some of his myriad frequent flier miles for the first leg of my trip. So the ticket came out to costing $7.50 (which he is also generously paying for-- I could have gotten that!). Thank you, thank you, Tommy!

Does anyone perhaps have a bunch of frequent flier miles that they would like to donate from Qatar Airways??

Guests

I got a lovely letter from a connection in Australia inviting me to use their guest house for a week while I am on my travels. I responsed back that I would love to use it the week of Christmas.

I received an email from her saying she hadn't realized WHEN I was thinking of coming, and that time didn't work for them. (No problem, I have other connections that I'll use and abuse.) She then went on to talk about how everyone wants to come stay and how many guests they'll have this year. This to the woman who had seven guests last weekend, a different seven this week, and another THIRTEEN at the weekend! A house in Australia is much like an apartment in NYC, she wrote. Yes, or a beach house in the summer...

(People ask me what I do during the summer, and they think I'm joking when I respond "Make beds.")

Um, Dickie???

This photo is of my bedroom here in New Hampshire. I hope the accommodations for the rest of my trip are as convenient as this.

Packing, stage one

I'm leaving St. Louis in three days, not to be returning for a year, so I am starting stage one of the packing. At this point, I am seriously considering just getting a pitchfork and chucking ALL my clothes into the back of my car to be sorted through in New Hampshire, much closer to the date of my departure for the Grand Tour.

Packing got a bit more challenging though, as I just found out that my trip will entail both collecting monkey feces in the Kenyan forest and a black tie 60th birthday party in England. I'm thinking that just adding a scarf and earrings to one outfit might not cut it for the second. "Oh her? She's the American cousin..."

Will there be a test?

I got the briefing for my monkey chasing Earthwatch trip last week (still fund-raising, by the way... www.earthwatch.org/FAF/MyPage/LucieGarnett), so I could read up on the details of my trip. When I received the 45 page document, naturally the first thing I did was to look at all the pictures. There was a nice full-page picture of a VERY cute lead-scientist for our trip. Oooo, bonus! When I actually read the briefing though, I found he wouldn't be on my trip. Bummer. Guess I'll have to pay attention to the monkeys now. It's probably better without him, though, as he is German, and I would have tried to impress him with my "I majored in German" skills, and attempted to say, "Wow, these monkeys are really cool," but, knowing my Lucie-Deutsch as I do, it would have come out roughly translated to "Which way to the nearest chocolate shop?"

I haven't read the whole briefing yet (although I did get a lot read as I sat in the travel clinic for an hour, waiting to get my myriad shots and pills), but I read a fair bit. Enough to get excited and confused. Excited by the fact that I will be going to Arab ruins in a Kenyan forest right next to the Indian Ocean. Confused by the fact that I am voluntarily going to a place where the temperature will be 72-90 degrees F, and the humidity 80-100%. Don't I make a big noisy fuss about ESCAPING that every summer??!

Back to the pictures in the book (which is what my co-teacher tells the kids "good readers" do when they first encounter non-fiction pieces--look at the pictures. I didn't know that was a strategy... I thought that was just delaying the inevitable of having to read the assignment.) At the end of the briefing, there were FLASHCARDS on how to identify the individual female monkeys that I will be studying (Angle, Susa, Pong-pong...). Along with descriptions of the salient features, there was a picture of their face, their tail, and their nipples. Yes, apparently one way to identify monkeys is by their nipples. Angle, for instance, has a right nipple which is longer than the left, and they are pale pink (no dark splotches).

I wonder if we could do that with humans...

"cherish the journey."

"cherish the journey" is written across the front of my t-shirt today. I wore it quite intentionally, as this is my last official day of first grade after ten years. I've never been one to strike out on my own into unknown territory. If I was marking my own progress report, next to "Takes Risks" I would give myself a PE (progressing towards expectations... only one step higher than Area of Concern).

I bought this shirt when my best friend was getting married and I was the maid of honor. I bought it as a reminder to myself that I needed to enjoy all of the pre-wedding madness. Plus, it was orange, like our dresses. (Don't groan, it was actually my suggestion, as we looked fabulous. Or at least I did, which really is all that matters.)

Now here I am, about to embark on what definitely will be the biggest journey of my life, both literally and metaphorically. I've travelled to Europe many times, but not beyond. And in all of my travellings, I've always been going to see people. This is the first time that I'll be on my own.

A good friend, when I told him my plans, said, "Some days will be hard." He just wanted to prepare me. I'm sure they will. I just need to keep reminding myself to cherish the journey.

Tomorrow the journey begins.