I face times in my life when the words just don’t come easily. And yet, I never suffer from writer’s block. The ideas float in a semi-coherent soup in the soup-bowl of my mind. It’s just that I have trouble making the spoon work properly.
I have a severe headache this morning. My blood-sugar is out of whack. I could always go to the store and buy more whack… but, oh yeah, quarantined. But that is almost done. My son is so much better. And the other three in the house, my wife, my daughter, and I have not gotten the disease. The disinfectant in the bathroom, the hand-washing, the wearing of masks in the house, has been mind-numbingly hard, but it has kept us safe. We are going to come through this.
But the school district I was subbing for last school-year is going to re-open and they are desperate to get subs back to the battle, especially subs who had no reported problems and even some good comments in their folders. They want me back. But my health has drifted down the ladder rungs of life from acceptable to moderately poor, and then slipped to daily suffering. I can’t go back at this time. In fact, I fear I haven’t the super-power left in me to ever go back to it. The Kryptonite has permanently taken me down.
And I am heartbroken. No students to yell at ever again? No captive audience to laugh and groan at my jokes… ever again? No more angry glares? And no more smiles? You can’t know how hard it is to say goodbye to those… unless you’ve been a teacher too.
But the time has come to make that decision. Risking my life in the pandemic to do one of the world’s hardest jobs for $100 a day is no longer something I can do.
My head hurts. There was something I wanted to say. But hopefully, I’ve already said it.