It’s late, and I know I should be in bed. But I’m enjoying the quiet that comes when hubby’s at work and daughter’s in bed. It’s so quiet that I can hear every creak and groan of our old house.
I’m beat. I’ve been teaching classes as a second job for the past nine months. One evening a week for four hours, I left my full-time job and head to class. It’s draining. Because my students are adults, I expected them to be self-sufficient. It was quite the opposite; many of them were starting second careers or had never been to college at all. It ended up taking more time that I thought.
I’ve had some adventures. There was the guy who paced the whole class, the group who routinely showed up late, and the woman who couldn’t understand why she didn’t get credit for an in-class project we did the day she was absent. She argued me down for those points. She didn’t get them.
Tonight was my last class for the rest of the year. My full-time schedule is about to go into overdrive, and there is no way I can keep up both jobs.
I should be jumping for joy.
Instead, I’m surprised by my reaction. I will actually miss teaching. There was something about connecting with people and sharing knowledge that was fulfilling. I learned as much as they did.
But for now, I think I’ll just appreciate the break.