School.
It is with joy and despair that I greet you each fall.
The new books and unsharpened pencils hold a year of promises. The famliar math and spelling send me into a dark cloud of worry.
Everything I love, I also hate. The structure of our days is amazing after a summer of, "What will we do todays?" The structure of our days is an impossible burden when all I want to do is sit in the sun with a book.
I adore the work of teaching our children, for watching them master a new concept is the salary I earn. All of that teaching, goes without wages as a blank stare meets my eyes after even four or five attempts at explaning factions. What I'd give for a day at the beach!
Most days though, are bright and I catch glimpses of my eldest helping his brother. The girls work together and encourage rather than bicker. Our youngest, instead of hiding in the backyard to fight imaginary foes, comes ready to work with his stack of books.
Most days.
Those other days are laced with sour attitudes, bitter words, and lazy dispositions. Why, oh why, are those the days that come to my mind when I say the word, "school"?
