I wake up. I glance at my fitbit. It’s 10:30 am. I never get to sleep in. What kind of voodoo magic is this? I remember. I am better now. I am in control of my body. Yes. My hands are resting by my side.
I become aware of the twitch, the telltale sneer twitch in my face. I make a mental note of improvement. My face is not doing the morning freak out. I get up. My right hand does not violently shake. This is a good sign. Downstairs, I greet my family. Linus notices my speech is a little clearer, my body less shaky.
I am getting better.
Tomorrow is the big school open house. I need to write sub plans for the next week. Despite my organization, I need to see my unit binders. I NEED to see with my own eyes what has transpired in the classroom in my absence in order to know the path forward. I am going to my classroom!
I promise Dave. It will only be for an hour and half. Two hours at most. I promise I won’t make any photocopies. I just need to put sticky notes on things. Look, I’m doing good! Maybe I will even be able to go to the open house. I’ll just sit on a stool. It will be fine. Dave thinks I’m nuts.
A friend is picking up Linus to have him over for the day. I ask if she would mind giving me a lift and dropping me off at school since her house is nearby. It’s high school all over again. I can’t drive and I constantly have to bum rides.
In high school, I had to wait for my older sister to go off to college before I could get a license. Even once I had a license, I still never had a ride. We were not the sort of family that could afford a car for the kids. We lived relatively close to a major transit station. A three block long road led to my high school. Every afternoon as the significantly more well off students drove past me, I walked the three blocks to the bus stop.
Sometimes I spent my bus money to buy lunch and then I would try to find someone to give me a ride. High school Charlotte was unpopular, shy, and awkward. Asking for a ride was scary and embarrassing. The bus was just as scary too. One time a man pulled over when he saw I had just missed the bus. He offered me a ride. I said no. He persisted. I said no. He was holding up traffic and left. Another time, a male in his 20s got on the bus and sat next to me. He tells me I’m cute. I KNOW I am not his type. He asks for my number. I make one up. He is talking about going on a date with me. I get off the bus a few stops early. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure I just avoided being trafficked.
There was one highlight to the daily anxiety brought on by my lack of transportation. My junior year of high school I had a giant crush on Scott LaFranchi (no pseudonym here). Just to look at him made my little teen heart skip a beat. Scott and I both participated in the after school improv club. This meant he knew I existed!
One day I’m walking to the bus after school. It’s later so there are no cars on the road. It’s quiet. A car drives past me. Stops. The car flips into reverse. The driver side window rolls down. Scott, his elbow leaning out the window, smiles and says, “Hey, you want a ride?” His blue eyes twinkle. His dimples wink at me.
I think I nod yes, too in shock to respond. I’m not even sure I spoke, yet I somehow managed to give him directions to my house. It was three miles, 12 minutes, of awkward bliss. Sometimes dreams do come true.
Back to the present, I’m Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.
So not strangers. My new mantra, “I’ve always depended on the kindness of friends, colleagues, and loosely associated people.” I’m grateful to be part of a community eager to help. My friend, Millicent, hasn’t seen me in my new state of being, “You look better than I thought you would.” It’s true. I’m getting better. I grab my daily school planner and we head to her car. I twitch, I tremor, we talk.
At school the upstairs is dark. Boy Scouts are downstairs with the Pine Wood Derby. I sign in, but am careful to go unnoticed. I get to my room. It’s a disaster! My sub note instructions for Friday afternoon included, and I quote, “Make it shine like the top of the Chrystler Building!”
I put down my purse and immediately begin to fix things. There is an open house tomorrow! I pick up pencils, move desks back into place, empty the pencil sharpener, and clean the boards. It’s a little better.
Others arrive to do last minute prep. I’m greeted with warm hugs. I can tell the hugs are coming and I happily accept them. No one has seen me in over a week since I left school one afternoon. Alicia is there. Her family is there with her and offers there assistance. I hand them Lysol wipes. Counters and desks are wiped, chairs straightened. Oh it looks so much better.
I walk down the hallway. I can’t help but fix the little things that look astray.
Back in my classroom, I put up my boards for Monday. I write a note to my students. My room is now crisp, clean, and ready. I focus on the reason I actually went in to school. I find and gather turned in work. I try to figure out exactly what was covered, where the gaps may be. I take photos of my unit binder and last year’s lab book so I can write clearer sub plans. I make notes to myself and put sticky notes on things (papers to be returned, last year’s lab book so the sub understands what the students’ work should look like). I realize that certain activities just aren’t going to happen this year. I make peace with it.
I keep my promise. I don’t make photocopies. I don’t update my bulletin board. I want to do more, but I tell myself it’s okay. I text Dave to come get me.
I’ve pushed myself too hard. I am shaking hard, the stuttering is bad, facial twitches are wild. I try to talk to Dave and tell him my accomplishments, but it is nearly impossible.
We go home. I lie down. My body is exhausted. My head hurts. I feel joy. There is joy is knowing. My classroom looks great, even if I didn’t leave out the hands-on science for the display. I understand what has been taught in my absence. I know what to write in my sub plans. There is joy in feeling I regained a little control.