It was a long work day, stretching from seven in the morning until five...in the afternoon? Evening? What does five p.m. qualify as, anyway? To my weary mind and body, it was twelve-plus hours and seven energetic classes-- spanning kindergarten through fifth grade-- after my pre-dawn alarm, so it was late. I trudged to my car in the falling temperatures, glad that I brought my winter coat today. I realized that late nights were going to be the norm for the next week-and-a-half with our spring book fair happening next week, and it made me feel preemptively exhausted.
The wind chimes are singing outside my window as I type, announcing the onset of our coldest night yet this winter. As much as I would love a late start or an ice day, the thought of what it would do to my schedule and preparations gives me pause. I missed two days last week due to the flu, and I'm still recovering both in body and in the tasks that have to get done.
I am bone-tired. Maybe it's my age. Maybe it's the barrage of bad news, much of it about education, that's wearing me down. Maybe it's a sign that I'm a candle about to burn out, sputtering as the wick whittles down to the last bit of wax. I think about retirement daily, vacillating between holding on for a teensy bit more financial gain and getting out while the getting's good. I can't stop working altogether, not just yet. But does it have to be at this pace?
And then there's the valentines I received last Friday from students and parents, kind notes attached, declarations of "Best Librarian Ever!", when I know that even a second's worth of comparison to my colleagues would quickly demote that status. I must be doing something right, or at least making a really good show of it, for students to still like coming to the library.
So many thoughts swirling in my head...I tamp them down a bit with a cold glass of strawberry moscato, a summery drink out of step with this wintry weather, but sweet on the lips, nonetheless.
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