Perky? No.

I've survived the first two days of four professional development obligations for my teaching job (which I'm not going to do until January!) It's been fun to be back in touch with my associates. I like the feeling of knowing I'm somewhat competent in that environment, since at home I'm reduced to being a "cancer slug". I barely vacuum. Blake works himself ragged, not only here but at our kid's houses too. I spent two days this week trying to organize a pile that developed during the hubbub that was Romania/Italy/cancer/end of school last spring. I felt like I'd run a marathon. It's so interesting to be reduced to this level of tired. Let's just say I'm far from perky! It actually scares me to death for January, when I know I'll be expected to be "back to normal", ready to assume my teaching position, getting up at 6:00 every day and matching my energy to that of 53 five year olds for at least eight hours of joy! Their little names on the lists I received yesterday were pulsing with possibility as I thought about them and the manner in which our lives will merge this year. My principal is already managing calls from concerned parents who know they have "the cancer teacher". Rumors of last year's horror story finish have circulated. They wonder if their children will start with a "real" teacher, or if they'll have a new sub every day for five months. They wonder if I'll be trying to teach from a gurney after Christmas. It surprises me that my classes are still as big as they are, given the anxiety level that must be mounting among the masses. So, I contemplate little people that I won't meet, consider parents that I won't confront, plan lessons that I won't teach and prepare side by side with new colleagues that I won't really know for a very long time. I can't help but wonder how they honestly feel about being yolked, against their will, to the Cancer Granny. Some fun huh?