There is a bit of the circus freak in all of us… and a lot of it in me.
But I am who I am supposed to be.
I sit here writing this in the state of Texas, in the midst of the worst pandemic in this country in 100 years, possibly headed towards the worst pandemic ever.
My father in Iowa is in hospice care under strict quarantine. My mother can’t even visit him. She’s afraid to go see him through the window because he is dying from late-stage Parkinson’s Disease. He doesn’t remember who she is some of the time, and her presence makes him agitated. He doesn’t understand what’s going on anymore.
And I have been forbidden from trying to go see her because of the threat to my health and her health that COVID 19 represents. We are both diabetics. Both capable of being blown away by the next cold breeze, or uncovered sneeze
So, here I am. I am a prisoner of circumstances. I can no longer be a teacher, something I was born to do. I can’t go out and do anything because the disease has reshaped the world.
But I am here, I can write, I am free…
I am who I’m meant to be…
This is me.
I always wanted to start a day’s lesson by singing. I never had the perfect song. But when I did sing in the classroom, or play the harmonica, it always got a rise out of that batch of other people’s children.
And now I have the perfect song… from the musical The Greatest Showman. And I am no longer a teacher. I missed my shot.
Wouldn’t it be a kick to sing to them, and even get them to sing along?
You think it would be a silly waste of time? A foolish thing to do and a total mistake that risks getting me fired?
Ah, you don’t know kids very well, do you.
It would be glorious. They wouldn’t learn about me. They would learn about themselves. And it would be a lesson worth more gold than the world has to pay with.
But I am still me. I write and draw silly pictures. And I make books that nobody really reads… except for nudists, and other teachers, and random Twitter followers… all who seem to like my stories.
Maybe I can’t ever be a teacher again. But I was one. It was glorious.
And, retired now, in my 60’s, it may all be coming to an end. I’m waiting at the moment for my COVID Test results.
And I still have a voice even now, through words like this… strung together on a page.
I make no apology,
This is who I’m meant to be.
This is me.