If I had a penny for every day that I complained about waking up early to teach at 6am, I would have retired years ago. 

I am not an early riser, and though I live and breathe for my classroom, I always fantasized about starting the day with normal people at 8 or 9 am. And if we couldn’t push the school day back just a titch, maybe teaching from my bed would someday be a reality in this technological world? One could only hope. 

That became a reality for me today, and let me be honest – I hate it. 

Going to bed last night, I told Scott that maybe the only bright side of things would be the sleeping in a little. But at 6:00 am, my eyes flew open.

What time is it? Why isn’t my alarm going off? Did I plan last night? Are my lessons ready? What grading is still outstanding that I feel guilty about? Did Scott remember to grab more kale burgers for my lunch when he was at Aldi yesterday? Shit – I didn’t do laundry! 

And then it hit me. I had no need for any of these thoughts, any of these concerns. There I was, living the dream I had dreamed for so many years and feeling for the first time the sinking feeling that my dream had turned into a nightmare. What I wouldn’t give to be racing out the door to see my kids, engaging in numerous meetings and moments with my colleagues and friends. 6am seems like an awfully easy price to pay to be back with the people I love, doing the thing I was born to do. 

I opened up Schoology and wrote to my students, assigning a quick “checking in” assignment to see which students have access and were reading my plans. Almost immediately, several submission notifications popped up, and I opened to read, craving words from anyone who had seen my message. 

For those of you thinking that students are overjoyed at no school, gathering for “play dates” and loving the reprieve from homework, this is what I read: 

student6

student-5 student-3 student-2 student-1

And then I proceeded to have my first coronavirus break-down on Day #1. 

I miss them. And my heart is aching right now something fierce. 

This isn’t going to be easy, and I never expected it would be. But it’s startling how quickly denial can turn into a jarring reality. I have promised myself that for every day we are in this, every day that I can’t run to school and feel purpose, I’ll write. Oh, and I’ll run. I figure that maybe when all is said and done, I’ll be beach ready and ripped, waiting on the news that my first novel is awaiting publication. 

Happy (??) Tuesday. St. Patrick’s Day isn’t the same, but may the luck of the Irish find you today!