Less than an hour ago, the last gate between the prison and the outside world popped open for me, and I walked through it. I knew I’d be excited, but considering the way I felt, you’d think I’d been confined inside for the past fifteen years; a real life Rip Van Winkle.
I felt like a parachutist, just falling from the plane.
I felt like a heroin junkie, right at the injection.
I felt like George Harrison must have felt while writing “Here Comes the Sun.”
I felt like Amelie, like the waiter in Life Is Beautiful.
I felt like it was the last day of my own high school from hell, throwing books in the air, knowing it was over forever; on to college!
I still feel like opening the windows and blasting the radio; something by a hair band.
All of the frustrations that come with being a teacher fall away at that moment: the shitty pay, the unreasonable hours, the unappreciative students.
I’m out for three months and, until mid-September, I’m free to do what I want, any old time.
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i was just talking about this sensation with another friend of tom’s and mine, who is a spouse of a teacher. the sensation is so much more poignant as an adult… we all had it once, as kids, and it *was* long awaited and much appreciated. but i still feel as though i didn’t appreciate it enough. what you have is a beautiful gift. more pay & accolades doesn’t buy time back. for that matter, a lot of people have unreasonable hours, little appreciation and shitty pay…and still don’t get a summer respite. needless to say, you chose your profession wisely! congratulations on your reward
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