It’s the middle of May, minutes before 7pm, and I’m still sitting at work. Many of my colleagues left hours ago, tired from the strain of testing. With most jobs, 5pm is quitting time, but as a first year teacher, I’m often in my classroom until 7:30, 8pm at night, until Calvin, one of the world’s most trustworthy custodians, tells me that I really should have been out the door hours ago.
Despite the late hours, I have survived and, courtesy of my amazing coworkers, have maintained a bit of a social life. But, unlike my high school days, I don’t have many groups of friends I spend time with, so on my “down nights,” I’m at school…late. Tonight I spend tallying grades and entering them into the gradebook, although I get a bit distracted by history notes that beg to be organized and my friend Peter interrupting me to inform me that the world is going to end, according to predictions, this upcoming Saturday. I have two doctors’ appointments on Friday, which will be a waste of money if the world is ending. Then again, if the world ends this weekend, how many dollars are in my pocket is moot.
Having finally learned the ins and outs of my school, I learned recently that I am being transferred. I hate to leave this place, my coworkers, the students I love, but I do thrive on change and am curious to see how next year will play out. I know how tonight will play out though. I will drive back to the room I am renting from family, clean a little, have dinner, and go to sleep watching old episodes of Friends. A sorely predictable night I am entirely looking forward to enjoying.