I really didn’t think this day would ever come. But it is finally here. The first day of summer!
And it’s raining. Which makes it even more perfect. I’m still in my jammies. Still drinking coffee. Still don’t have a bra on. Because I don’t have to. Because I’m a freaking teacher.
I’ve had to put a bra on every day for the last ten months. I mean every day besides every weekend, every holiday, every furlough day, Christmas break and Spring break. But still. That’s a lot of bra wearing.
I wore bras so much that I had to buy new bras. From Meijer. But nonetheless new bras. My wine costs more than a few of them. I prefer to spend my money on the important things in life.
I had a lot to celebrate yesterday. School ending. My baby had his last day of preschool. My brother was promoted. Three kids in the play-offs. And the weather was beautiful.
So I indulged accordingly. With some sangria and champagne to really make it official. What the hell do I care? I don’t have to get up in the morning. I don’t even have to wear undergarments.
Don’t talk to me about budgets. Don’t talk to me about elections. Don’t talk to me about a strike. Don’t talk to me about all the gloom and doom.
Don’t talk to me about lesson plans. Don’t talk to me about grades. Don’t talk to me about all the acronyms I still don’t understand.
Talk to me about summer. Talk to me about watching my kids play baseball. Talk to me about playing softball and volleyball up at the park with my friends and cocktailing after. Talk to me about pool parties.
Talk to me about the next sixty-eight days of pure drunken bliss. Talk to me about White Sox games or roof top concerts. Talk to me about the ten pounds of alcohol I’m going to gain in my midsection.
It’s really funny because a few short weeks ago I applied for summer school. I was really hoping I would get it. What the F was I thinking?
Thank you baby Jesus. A few weeks ago I thought working the summer sounded like a good idea. And I can tell you now with all certainty that it would not have been a good idea. It would have been a very bad idea.
And for everyone who complains that you don’t get a summer because you’re not a teacher? Become one. Stop complaining and become one. Do what I do.
Don’t tell me I don’t deserve my summers off. I don’t deserve my summers off. I don’t deserve anything. It has nothing to do with deserving. Teachers have been getting summers off since the beginning of time. It’s just the way it is. Get over it.
Without teachers you wouldn’t have your year round job. Without teachers you wouldn’t have the ability to write to me to complain about how unfair the world is because you chose to not become a teacher.
Beat it. Get lost. Allow me to overindulge in bread and booze. Braless. With my tinfoil and baby oil. The way summer was meant to be lived.
And you might want to start thinking about something else to complain about. Because pretty soon there will be no such thing as public education. Wink.