What "Back to School" blues?

As my first week back to work after the summer off comes to a close tomorrow, I am grateful that I finally have something more to do with myself other than stalk Michael Phelps and sleep until 3 p.m. Don't get me wrong, everyone needs a vacation now and then, especially those who work with children. But two months? Most people are clearly envious when I'm the last one to leave Thursday Happy Hour in the middle of July; others wish they could have the tan I acquired naturally in lieu of their ten minute sessions at the tanning salon. Sadly, what they fail to realize is that having too much time on one's hands can be compared to a person with poor vision finally getting glasses - that first look in the mirror is a startling one, a Monet from a nose-length away. Inevitably I began to hate myself.

Something is terribly wrong when the only items on my daily agenda are clearly listed for all to see on my DVR. Sure, occasionally I'd take out the trash and polish my furniture. I had to eat. I had to drink; not as much as I did, though, but what else is a Kennedy to do? Meaningless walks around my neighborhood only made me long for the sound of MiddleSchoolers cursing each other out. By mid-August I developed a routine of looking at myself in my bathroom mirror and helplessly spouting Yo' Mama jokes; to no avail, I was only offended.

Last night in class as we discussed Time, I thought about my summer. I realized how much time I wasted these past two months: my feet never felt sand, museums were left unvisited, and my liver now hates me. One positive, however, I took from this summer was the realization that teaching isn't for me - I'll soon hand over my vacation and affection for adolescent disrespect to someone else. I probably should have realized that earlier, but as they say, there's no time like the present. And presently, I think I need a vacation.