This morning in New York City, Demetrius Whitman entered the JFK airport in New York City in a rush. He was to leave to Australia in three hours, for the Broadway-ish show in which he starred was on tour, and to be showing in Melbourne in 48 hours. He probably had time to grab his coffee, as he is always on time and doesn’t like to rush…. it causes too much chaos for him.
In San Diego, Billy Mierovich awoke on the couch of the friends’ house in which he resides. He more than likely turned on the TV, and wondered what he’d be doing today. As he shook off his hangover with either a glass of water or a beer, he wondered if he’d drive down to Ocean Beach and tan, or maybe go to the mall and get a new shirt. Either way, he needed to look good for tonight (as he does every night), for he is a bartender in the gay district.
In Montreal, Canada, Emily Penswell was already awake, and boiling water in the microwave for tea with the rest of her family, who have flown in from Manchester, England, to spend the last week of her trip to the United States with her. She doesn’t really care what they see or where they go today. She’s been lonely on her journeys…. and couldn’t be happier for them to be with her.
And thousands of miles from any of these souls (whom he’d met on his cross-country trip in his VW van)…. was Matty McManson (me), pulling his Oldsmobile out onto Surfside Drive, nearly smashing into a speeding white BMW flying down his street.
And of course, I was late for work. I was thinking of them (Demetrius, Billy, and Emily), as I drove… contemplating what each of them was up to.
I was envious of their positions in life currently. As I have joined the ranks of the over-worked, under-paid teachers of Florida, my life during the school year just doesn’t always sound as nice and relaxing as my friends’ anymore. Which is why I sometimes like to pretend I’m them, instead of me, especially when I’m driving to work….
Welcome back to R. Nixon Elementary. Come take a walk with me
Meet the principal, Mr. Collins. Yes, he is still crazy (in my personal and professional opinion). He can be understanding and a great leader. He can also yell, scream, holler, and just generally be frighteningly bitchy. Don’t get on his bad side.
Meet Receptionist Rita… and yes, you can shake her hand. She doesn’t bite. Good morning, Rita. Nice to see you again.
Good morning, Saint Sandy, the bookkeeper.
And again, say hi to Bahamian Betty. She is still unorganized, impossible to communicate with sometimes, but one of my best friends and a great teacher. Love you too, Betty.
Meet Homebody Hannah, across the hall from me. She’s in my old room. She’s sweet, she’s neat, and she’s fairly petite. I’m warming up to her quickly. She’s our newest third grade teacher. Single. Serious. But sometimes smiling.
Ahhhh… Cantankerous Connie…. we all can see you’re back for another year. Mind you, watch her… she bites. However, in all fairness, this year both her and I have very carefully (and painfully) made attempts to get along.
Down in the sixth grade hall is a fun new addition- her name’s Content Carrie. I’m calling her content because she always seems happy and outgoing. Her fiancé, Mechanic Mike, just fixed my car’s wheel bearing. That’s why I was able to concentrate on what my friends were doing this morning, instead of how to drive it so the wheel doesn’t fall off.
And in Robin’s old room (before she bolted to Virginia), is a new friend of mine, Merry Mel. She’s a breath of fresh air- bubbly, excited, not afraid to go to gay bars with me, and a shared sense of humor. Merry Mel is going to keep me sane this year. She has truly become a great friend.
Let’s not forget my room, room 302, where 16 students will be entering in 40 minutes. Meet all of them… then use the germ-X on your hands. They’re messy. But loveable. Just don’t get their mothers mad at you- they’re complete Desperate Housewife bitches, with nothing better to do than worry about their children and annoy you.
Yes, this is my job, and sometimes (like this morning) I really do drive to school thinking of friends from times past, picturing what they’re doing in the present, and wondering if I’d be happier being more like them in the future. But deep down, I know that if I wasn’t doing this job, I would truly be unhappy. I have no other choice- I love teaching, and cannot be anything near happy without doing it. So join me, as I start up another year of teaching at R. Nixon Elementary.
I cannot promise it will be a Broadway show in New York, a provocative gay bar in San Diego, or an exciting vacation in another country. But I promise-
it will be interesting….
