Ten years ago this school year, I left the house in my new suit and heels for my first day of school on the other side of the desks. I was young, a new graduate, and I needed to support my husband and I while he went to school for his dream career. I loved school so much, I figured teaching would be a good fit. I must have been right because eight years later, I was still in the classroom, but longing to be home with my babies.
This morning, I began my ninth year of teaching. I wore flip flops and shorts, and no one cared. I started class a few minutes late so I could squeeze in a morning workout, and there were no reprimands. There were no bells, no jammed lockers, and no buses to flag down at the end of the day.
We talked about God, read the Bible, and no one objected. The students asked questions and we paused for discussion until intrigue was satisfied. I listened to my kids play, read, and run around in the backyard. I had time to prepare for tomorrow and still make dinner fresh from the lease.
I think I could get used to this…
Dove en Brochette, from Texas Monthly Bacon Wrapped Dove (adapted since Man doesn’t do cream cheese y’all), game advice from Those doves you bagged are tasty, if you cook them right.