December 09, 2011


My husband tells me with annoying frequency that I am an old woman trapped in a 25-year-old's body. While this seemingly brutal pronouncement may seem harsh to some, it is my boy's way of telling me that I lack the ever inherent confusion and misdirected fumbling associated with youth. Instead, the path that I have relentlessly pursued was decided at the tender age of 8. I would be a history teacher. And I haven't deviated from that goal since. I have always been sure.
Twenty years. TWENTY years, I have been a student. It's my one talent in life; the one thing that I've been good at. While most people count down the days until they can shrug off the title of "student," I have been dreading it. That day came this week. I attended my very last day of school. If I wanted, I would never have to return to school again.
And yet, I don't feel the expected elation that most people would experience. What do I do now? Well of course I find a teaching job, but in the meantime...what am I supposed to do with my time? There's only so much cleaning, laundry, exercising, reading, blogging, TV watching, etc, that a person can do. There has never been a point in my remembered existence in which I haven't had to think about school, or some looming assignment. Now I'm free of that.
But I feel aimless.
Graham thinks I'm crazy. I should be excited. I know that. So...I'm working on it. I'm starting down a NEW path in life, and while I'm not very enthusiastic about leaving my old one behind, I am excited about the innumerable possibilities that the future has to offer. So here it goes...

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