The empty, bare classroom stared at me in disbelief. This pandemic year had finally ended, and we both did not know what to do next. I turned out the lights and walked out of the oppressive heat of the classroom.
As I drove home my brain was already reeling as it did not know what to think. There was no need to plan lessons for next week. There were no meetings to attend. The grading deadline had passed; there were no assignments waiting for review.
This transition is always interesting. I am exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I wander around aimlessly looking for something that must be done now or by a certain date, which is in contrast to the last month when I had so many other things to do that took me away from my pressing work. The dreaded routine of work is now what I crave.
I thought I would want to celebrate with a glass of wine. I thought I would jump right into cleaning and organizing the house I have neglected for too long.
Instead, I napped and read as I had no energy for much else. I found refuge in someone else’s story.
Finally, the rain started to fall, and I felt the switch in the air. They beckoned me outside. Putting my head back to look at the sky, I walked into the light drizzle. Within minutes, the drops came down at a steadier, more persistent pace. I stayed in the rain until my daughter returned home excited to talk about her college schedule.
When I re-entered the house, I felt rejuvenated and ready to move on.