amazing, isn’t it, how utter joy and bliss can compress into panic and dread. last day of vacation blues.
couple this well-understood phenomenon with a recent bout of flu that has decided to unpack and move into my lungs.
particles of dust
take refuge in my lungs
last day of vacation
still, in spite of my personal reality, calendar days will be calendar days and they flip away as if everyone’s glad to see that vacation is ending and life in the gutter of over-booking is resuming once more.
Teaching, okay, let’s say. But afterwards, not just recovery and sighs of relief, but rather long, hugely lengthy pedagogical meetings that demand not only my focus, my time but also my contribution and sage advice as to how to deal with students who have been jumping from desk to desk the entire year (or part of it), painting on walls, punching their neighbours or writing secret skype messages instead of doing their computer assignments.
i am entrusted with the duty of making lists of doings (both of the aforementioned sort and other perhaps more positive signs of budding maturity) and then presenting them in a lucid format within the contexts of hours upon hours of meetings. All this after teaching and with the flu families residing in my lungs.
I’m not happy.
Yet, one more day of gluing and arranging puppet mouths. One more day to prepare worthy tasks for any student who still might care enough about developing knowledge and skill and who still even in April might actually do the work. I still have one last day to think about my future with my own studies concerning ‘Inside Hana’s Suitcase’ and its effect on commemorating the Holocaust.
I still have one day to walk through orange orchards, smell the incredible blossoms (the reason I stayed in Israel so long ago). I still have one day to sit and drink hot ginger tea, crunch on an apple, stretch out on the floor when I like.
One more wonderful day before I’m inundated with the stories of others and attracted to new missions and urgent first-aid sessions.