Monday, January 12, 2009

hours away

From returning to work. Tomorrow I'll be on my bike, heading for school a little after six-thirty. I am not freaking out. I am not freaking out. I am not freaking out.

The thing is, I have it pretty good. Last spring, I negotiated a different contract with administration so that I am able to spend more time with Claire this semester - on campus during my classes, allowed off campus when I'm not teaching. Most days I'll be able to come home to nurse or head to school later in the day. Since Bolivar is on a rotating block schedule, it'll be its own brand of chaos. I've mapped out as much as I could - through March - and it doesn't look too bad on paper. I'm getting up at five or five-thirty each morning (augh) regardless of whether I have to teach at seven-forty or ten o'clock. I think that'll help. Routine.

But I'm not sure what to really expect. My friend Georgia advised: plan ahead. This last week I made meals to freeze. And my unit plans for senior American literature and sophomore English are set for two months. I'll even try to get into the habit of laying out clothes the night before, making a lunch or snack the night before. I never do that.

In fact, I can't think of much that I actually did ahead of time before Claire arrived. Except pack a bag for the hospital. And then it sat forlornly under our key hooks for a month. It mocked me.

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