Dread

Oh how I hate the beginning of a semester. Hate it hate it hate it.

I know exactly how lucky I am to have a job, and benefits. Really, I do. And I 100% appreciate it.

But there is still the jello mold problem. When semester break comes, it is an emotional tempest. I always swear that I'm going to do great things, mark every item off my Semester Break List. I'm going to get all that stuff done and then have 2 or 3 days before classes start to just relax. This has been my plan every single semester break since I started teaching in 1998.

The plan has never once come to fruition.

Instead, what happens is that I tell myself "Ahhhhh! Final grades are turned in. I'm going to give myself one really lazy day or two. I'll stay up until the wee hours, sleep in shamefully late, be in my pajamas until dinner time. Rejuvenate."

And then I never fully come back. As a result, I do not accomplish my many goals. Nor do I ever get back into the habit of going to bed at a semi-decent hour. The late night is just too delicious. This crappy sleep pattern, of course, turns me into a slug. I don't want to do anything, go anywhere, see anyone, or move from my couch. I discover that I have fully transformed into a puddle. Like a sweet little lime green jello mold with carrot bits adorning its insides. Lift the shiny mold off it, let it sit out at room temperature for a whole day. And there it is, a green oil slick dripping off your kitchen table, with carrot-sliver death-stare fishies plopping onto the linoleum to their open-mouthed final resting place.

Then a new semester approaches. Fast. As in, tomorrow. And here I am, trying to mop myself up and coax and cajole my brain into re-entering a teaching state of mind. Which is a lot like pushing a wagon filled with granite up a hill with a toothpick.

But I do not take my job for granite.