Then it occurred to me. For over a
dozen years, I had crashed into July and relaxed. In Chicago, school ends in
late June. There was the full speed rush to finish grades and records, and pack
your room in the stifling heat. The room had to be in a state that the
custodians could empty it easily to redo the floors. If it wasn’t, you were
likely to come back to your things jumbled in the middle of the room which
meant hours of work and under-the-breath swearing in the stifling heat putting
it back together before school started.
This push towards the finish was after
10 months of working six days a week and, usually, 60 hour weeks. Teaching was intellectually,
physically, and emotionally draining for me. Every year, regardless of the
group I had just sent to third grade, I was ready for a break.
So, I steadfastly took July OFF. The
only exceptions were for mandated training. I needed that month to refuel, to
process those events of the last year, to read novels, and maybe, hopefully, dance.
I didn’t do anything “teacher related” until August steamed in. Then I’d start
planning for the next year, write curriculum, go to my classroom and start
unpacking, changing boards, sort the library, and gear up for my next adventure
of second grade.
This year after not teaching, I was
surprised to find myself in July mode. I tried to fight it but it was stronger
than my resolve. So, I let it take me outside of my day-to-day routine. I took
my mom to lunch, bought a treat at the bakery where my niece works, stopped and
visited my sister at work. I travelled to Michigan twice, floating in the
armchair on sunny afternoon, or figuring out how to kayak alone in our two man
kayak.
I loaded my car with birthday presents
for my beautiful 25 year old Elena, drove six hours, and took a half-hour ferry
ride to Washington Island, Wisconsin which is now her home. I slept in an inn
overlooking Green Bay. The water there switches from bright blue to teally
green to steel gray depending on the light. Huge flocks of pelicans float on
the water. The trees are the rustling leaves and deep aromas of birch and
cedar. I walked the shore, had cookouts, and ate breakfast each morning in a
restaurant.
While driving to the island dunes with
my sister’s family, a passing truck shouted and asked if we were looking for a
cow. This caused my brother-in-law to stop and back up to them. The couple in
the truck explained that sixteen head of Angus had wandered away. If we saw
them we were instructed to “just call it in.” Off the truck wandered to search
for the cattle leaving us to wonder who we would call if we spotted a cow at
the dunes. My sister, Nora, joked all day about seeing “Cow, cow, moo-cow, cowwy,
moo cow.” This chant seems to be destined to be a new family anthem.
One early morning, I rode the “car
wash” ferry to the back to the peninsula with Elena and her boss. A car wash
ferry means the waves were so high they splashed over the side of the ferry and
drenched the vehicles. The sun was so bright, rainbows played in each wave. We
sat huddled in jackets and sunglasses and discussed the Beatles, Searching for Sugarman, and concerts
we’ve been to. Once back on land, we
rode down the highway through coastal towns, windows open, singing. I sat and watched my daughter sell bread and
tasty scones, and mini brownie-mocha cheesecakes
at the farmers’ market on the peninsula (a.k.a. Door County).
On the drive back to Chicago stopped
for a walk at the Chicago Botanic Gardens. It was 4:30 p.m. and I was avoiding "rush hours," a period much longer than an hour. I was exhausted after nearly six hours on the road, so I wandered
from garden to garden finding benches in beautiful gardens to perch on and
recharge my body’s batteries. I repeated the process in conifer gardens, formal
gardens, and finally a remarkable, enclosed garden filled with chartreuse
foliage and eggplant purple flowers.
A teenage boy in a wheelchair reached
out to take my hand as I exited that spirit-lifting enclosure. His face split
into a white smile as he introduced himself as Jordan. He shook my hand over
and over until his mom reminded him to let go. It made us all laugh in delight.
I told him I’d been driving all day and offered him the opportunity to finish
the drive for me. He readily accepted but his mother said it was just too scary
of a thought. I shrugged and held up my hand for a high five. Jordan shakily
smacked my hand and we said our good-byes. I was destined to finish the trip
without my driver.
When I was at home, I did work a
couple of days. I revamped my to-do-list, or more officially, my flowchart. I half-heartedly
completed a couple of tasks on the list. I had lunches and dinners with
friends. Sometimes I had both on the same day. They were full of laughter which
was a nourishing as the meal.
There was a week of family which
included a large party, and a night of nine guests, five adults and four kids,
sleeping over at my condo. There were two nights where my four year
old grandson insisted he sleep with me in my bed. (He takes his half of the bed out of the middle.) He and I explored the Field Museum of Natural History to see
dinosaurs with fresh eyes. His souvenir was a dinosaur grabber who munched
pretzels into crumbs on the drive back to Iowa. I could only laugh at the
ingenuity of it. What a bad dinosaur!
I sat on the deck of my son’s home in
Small Town, Iowa and ate my breakfast of zucchini bread and a fresh Michigan
peach selected by my grandson at my neighborhood farmers’ market. A swallow
swooped overhead in a large, lazy C then flapped rapidly behind the honey
locusts. Bees and cabbage white butterflies worked the garden of cosmos and
zinnias. They were unaware that July is for soul work only. Perhaps for them,
it is soul work.
I’m home now for the last few days of
July. My car is full of beach towels to return to Michigan and the dinosaur’s
pretzel crumbs. My soul is full of friends and family, newly minted memories
and joy. It’s almost August and it’s time to get back to work. I’m ready.
What did you do to rejuvenate yourself this summer?.
What did you do to rejuvenate yourself this summer?.
July summer break, vacation, Washington Island
vacation summer break teaching teacher
second gread
