Recess!

6:45 morning alarm sounds.

“What the?! Already?”

(Snooze.)

6:55 morning alarm sounds.

(Snooze.)

7:45 morning alarm sounds.

Damn. You Work at 8, get up.

(Sighhhhh, rolls around)

Get up.

(Still fetal positioned, hands in prayer mode under my right cheek)

GET UP!

Okay, okay…I’m up…

I roll out of bed, tripping over a spilt pile of last night’s grading that I dumped on the side of my twin mattress; others in attendance to last night’s floor party were a couple of dirty tanks, my purse, and a lonesome sock. I pride myself on end of the semester cleanliness. I zombied my way out of Quarantine, my only source of protection barricading me from those winged bastards’ full-fledged attacks. I stand in place for a second but it’s long enough to feel the mirror staring at me with judgment.

Wow, YOU’RE a winner.

 A mixture of last weekend’s shenanigans and teaching exhaustion perform undisguised numbers on my face--Crusted Eyes and their long time partner, Heavy Bags, headline with appearances by Nappy & Tangled, Dark Circles, and Dragon Breath.

I drag my feet to the bathroom and get ready.

The possibility of falling back into a deep slumber is ruined by an orchestra of Thai wildlife. At least that’s what I try to convince myself. It’s partially true. I’ve pondered the thought of installing padded walls as a result of the variations of high pitched birdcalls at consistent intervals and the incessant howling bouts between the rabid dogs on-campus, which go on at the most random parts of the day…and night for that matter. The redundancy and tragedy of this Thai musical make the walls seem like they are closing in, piercing my ears like Styrofoam on Styrofoam or a rake on concrete; going mad is just around the corner.  

I need sleep…or the weekend…or which ever comes first.

It happens at the end of every school year, for students and teachers alike: burn out. Procrastination, quiet throughout the term, is now standing tall, cape flapping in the wind, and making its presence known. Stacks of ungraded class work, books, and doodled scratch paper clutter the desk, my mental Bitchwork List is getting too long to remember, and my friend, Motivation, seems to have stepped out for a cigarette. 

Case of the Mondays?

No, no, case of the ending semester.

I need to power up.

This week marks the last set of classes for my second year students and Wednesday, February 2, is the last day of class for my first years AND I just received confirmation that my contract will end the last day of February, leaving me with two and a half months to play. Just a few more classes and a couple more hours from recess? Sounds good to me.

I just found my red mushroom.

Oh, hey, Motivation…