A Reluctant Adult

Some of you are probably laughing right now, knowing as you do how often I use my Facebook account. And while I admit that is true, I also contend that each time I sign off Facebook, I say the same thing--internally, at least--"Facebook, you suck." A lot. Let me explain. In the past, you graduated from high school and, unless you kept in touch with everyone, waited until your high school reunions to see what everyone was up to. Inevitably, at that event, some people would show up with amazing and envy-inducing lives, inspiring you and your spouse to grumble about "those people" during the car ride home. Once home, you were once again blissfully unaware of everything others were doing, wrapped in a cocoon of ignorance. Then Facebook came along and turned everyday into one big class reunion. Let me give you an example. Today I woke up and perused photos of friends' recent home renovations, travel albums from exotic places like Marrakesh and Thailand, and t

Ever since the summer started, I have been suffering from a spate of migraines, making it nearly impossible for me to concentrate on anything for very long and plunging our apartment into a continual state of semi-gloom. So I resorted to my light-reading standby--Harry Potter. Rest assured, I can hear your snickers from here, but by this point, I am impervious to your mockery. Yes, I have read the books more times than I can count; yes, I have three different complete sets of Harry Potter books  (paperbacks, hardcovers, and the British editions); and yes, I went to Chicago (twice) to see the Harry Potter exhibit when it was traveling. I love Harry Potter. I've come to terms with it. So should you. But my love of Harry Potter is not my real confession here. My confession is this: as much as I love the story, there is one thing about the books I love more: the smell. Two nights ago, I was curled up on my couch with the third book when I heard my husband snickering from the kitche

Teachers love summer. This is not to say we don't love our jobs or students, or that we are not eager and ready to go back to work in September. This is only to say that we, like our students, love summer. Unabashedly and unequivocally love summer.  So, in the spirit of the first day, I will count the reasons for my love of the next twelve weeks. 1. I get to sleep past 4:30am. There is nothing--nothing--to rival this feeling. 2. I can once again read for fun. (Okay, to be honest, I do a fair amount of this during the school year. But during the summer I can do it guilt-free). 3. I can pee whenever I want. Perhaps only other teachers can truly understand the wonder that is the unscheduled bathroom trip, but it is not to be underestimated. 4. I see sunlight. Often. During the school year, I work in a windowless classroom, and--as Minnesota winters stretch the dark hours of the day to 14 hours or more--I often go five or six days at a time with no real proof that the sun actua