Ode to Unemployment

There are worse places to be than this.

That's what I say to myself when I start panicking that I don't have a job (or any prospects, for that matter). That's what I say when I start missing Charlotte, or my friends, or (gasp!) my boys. So much of my identity the past two years has been wrapped up in what I do. "I teach 8th grade boys." I'd say, then anticipate the sympathetic/surprised/horrified response of the questioner. It was a point of pride, almost. I know people don't associate teaching with prestige or valor (though they should), but it always gave me a sense of accomplishment to know that I was doing something so difficult. Even now, I look back and wonder who in their right mind put me in charge of the well-being and education of all those boys--teaching science, no less. But I did it!

I didn't stop crying until I reached the South Carolina line as I drove home, car loaded with all my material possessions. Feeling I had mourned properly, I turned on the radio to lighten my spirits. "Carolina" blared meaningfully from the speakers.

Damn you, Eric Church.

Nowadays, I spend my days absorbing as much sun as humanly possible, eating my family's food (which is even better than I remembered) and perfecting my floating skills in the pool or the ocean. Tough life. Not much to blog about.

Don't worry, in two weeks I will be taking three of my students on their first out-of-the-country vacation to Canada. I'm sure I will have plenty to report. Meanwhile, I'm preparing to educate the masses on the cardinal rules of bridesmaiding and "How to Pose in Bathing Suit Photographs After Eating Ribs, Potato Salad and Homemade Peach Ice Cream Without Looking Like You've Already Given Birth to Several Children."

Enjoy your perch from the edge of your seat.