Bragging Rights

The last week of school has a celebratory vibe that I remember from my years as a student and now fully appreciate as a teacher. Though I no longer want my yearbook signed by as many cute boys as possible, I do feel a similar sense of finality and excitement. Everything is a little more relaxed, brighter. There are movies, my outfits are not quite business casual and every day is broken up by something happy: spelling bees, awards ceremonies, school plays. Everyone likes each other more than usual. Annoying student behaviors that drove me to drink two weeks ago are suddenly tolerable. And when I do (still) sip that beer a little too early in the afternoon it feels triumphant rather than necessary.

Yesterday, for example, I was dunked (twice in quick succession) in a freezing cold--and apparently traditional--dunk tank in the humid rain. First, by my boss in retaliation for a splash-attack and then by a seventh grade boy who bid on the prize of dunking me in our school-wide auction. This is either because he loves me or hates me, but I find it's no use to dwell. The dunk tank setting resembles a public execution: Tank in front with jeering students lined up to watch the massacre. The snap of the platform before you hit the water sounds like a guillotine of ye olden days, and suddenly I'm making Tale of Two Cities comparisons in my head. Wondering if I'm the only one...Likely. In a way, the dunk tank experience is pretty terrible. I'm freezing, and I think my shirt is see-through in front of hundreds of teenage boys;I did not bring an extra pair of underwear and I have lunch plans in thirty minutes. But in another very real way, I could not care less. In a matter of hours I'm done teaching for almost two months. More importantly, I no longer must wear Hester's scarlet badge of first-year teacher--skin I'll happily molt like a lazy gecko in the sun. (I'm a metaphor mixolagist). I'm on summer break. I can soak in the free Brooklyn culture, get around to writing that novel and drink white wine in Prospect Park completely free of responsibility.

The difference between me and some of those creative hipsters, though, is that I'm still very much employed. Right now, I feel like teaching is the best job in the world. I like a job that has end points and beginnings, a job that changes yearly and allows fresh starts. One that builds up pressure then lets it go, sharp and fast. I'm on my toes like a ballerina. My biggest fear in life has always been boredom. Sometimes when I watch a boring movie, I start thinking: What if the way I feel now were my constant, my everyday? Teaching is many things--pleasant and unpleasant--but teaching is never boring. For me, that fact overshadows most everything. More likely than not, I won't be teaching in Brooklyn in ten years, but for now it feels really, really right. Cheers.