Learning to let go (or…stop being a wuss, Tara)

If you know me, you know that for the past four years I’ve been slaving away at being student council adviser.  If you’ve been reading this blog, you’ve probably rolled your eyes at all my complaints about the hours, the kids, the parents, the drama.  So sorry about that.  I finally did give it up.  In fact, I’ve pretty much become one of “those” teachers – I roll in at 7:10, teach, then roll out as soon as I can (which, before you decide to bitch about how I’m overpaid, is usually 5:30 pm, when Megan is done with practice and I’ve *almost* caught up with grading).  It’s been nice…the weekends belong to me again.  I don’t get text messages from students panicking about fabric color.  I’ve only had one voicemail at school this year and it was from a student.  I’m nearly anonymous.  But here’s the thing:

I don’t like being anonymous.

I realize this sounds stupid.  After all that complaining and now I decide I miss it?!? Yes.  Let me be clear.  I miss the kids.  I miss the fun.  I miss being involved in the things that make our school such a family.  Not being a part of, well, everything is foreign to me.  Our back to school assembly about drove me to tears.  So today, during the homecoming assembly, I went to Target.  I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t walk in there and see how everything had changed.  How my kids were someone else’s kids.  It would be so much easier if I wasn’t here, but I *am* here.  And I feel like a fucking fool.

It’s not that I think I could do better.  It’s not that I don’t think “my” kids aren’t doing a great job.  It’s not that I want to take it back, because my goodness, is it nice to hang out with my own kids.   I just miss it.  And I very quickly need to find a better way to handle it than retail therapy.