When I was a teacher, I used to live for summer break. Long, lazy days, no responsibilities, nothing to do but bask in the warmth and relish my time away from hormonally crazed teenagers. Every teacher knows without summer vacation, they’d lose that slight grasp on their sanity they’re desperately trying to hang on to.
Then I quit teaching. And now, summer vacation is no longer that most treasured time of the year, it’s my own personal HELL.
Darling daughter had her last day of school yesterday. Forget the fact she was only in Kindergarten and was only going to school half days anyway. Forget the fact she’s six and doesn’t know what true boredom is. Five minutes after arriving home from school, she was going out of her mind. “There’s nothing to do. I’m bored! What am I going to do all summer long?”
I’m now convinced summer vacation was created by evil-teachers to punish parents who sick their monster children on them nine months out of the year. Every teacher is laughing their ass off right now as they sit on their back porch drinking mai tai’s at ten o’clock in the morning, relishing the fact they have two months off from screaming children, demanding parents and that nightmare known as teaching.
But as I sit here trying to write, listening to my six-year-old who doesn’t know how to stop talking (UGH, where did she learn that annoying trait?), one small consolation fact is trickling through my mind. Those teachers might have two months of freedom, but come September, I’m going to be laughing all the way to school and back. Because you won’t only be getting one of my non-stop talking children, you’ll be getting two. And just wait until all three of them are there.
Bwah ha ha ha…
Payback is a bitch. 🙂