Oh how I love subbing. Really. It's great being a part time teacher and getting to leave at the end of the day, not worried about the lingering social and educational issues that remain. But. Sometimes I long for my spot in a classroom as someone who belongs for more than a few days. As I walked down the hallway at the high school I subbed at today, I read the motivational posters and looked at the framed class pictures lining the walls. I noticed who had contributed to the school and how they were honored. I dragged my fingers across name plates greeting visitors and students alike outside of classrooms. Yes, today I felt more like an outsider than I normally have. Today was also a day of controlled chaos, as my assignment changed the moment I stepped inside the school doors, and it was not anymore clear to me by the end of the day. This is the reality behind subbing though: most things do, indeed, go. I walked briskly to my car at the end of the day with an hour to spare before my next job started.
I walked into my workplace in a positive refreshed mood (showers and long drives home do wonders). I got seated with three tables tonight, and I couldn't have asked for kinder people at my tables. The people I work with were helpful and friendly as they always are. I walked out the door 30 minutes before close. In every other situation I should be perfectly content with my evening, but not tonight.
Just after getting into my car I broke down and sobbed. I am still trying to figure out exactly what happened in my mind. I try to retrace my thought process, but all I can understand is how exhausted I was. I realize, every day, that my life has lost its ease and lightness, that I will have to work hard each day hereafter to get by. That hard work has finally found a place in my life, and it's here to stay.
In my lately fashion I should find the positive in my sorrow, so here goes. People comforted, and if not comforted they at least listened to me, on the drive home. And someone called me back who I did not expect to; that made me sit up and think. Do people hear our calls of desperation and pain and respond? Does God send relief in the moments of quiet struggle? What is it that I am really seeking? Money pays bills, but does it fill a weary heart with hope and love? What must I live for?
I have a goal for myself. Before I close my eyes tonight and say farewell to another day I will laugh out loud at myself. I am a fool, no more, no less. I am a fool in love with a fleeting memory.
Goodnight,
Saira
PS: My hips ache from the walking today. If "dogs" or feet can bark, my hips can sing. Unfortunately they are not in tune.
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