Thursday, August 18, 2011

Summer reflections, part 2

So, after Portland we went to San Francisco to hang out with a friend from my Charleston days. I had been to San Francisco to visit Shannon before, and the Mister had been to the City a few times as well. We were in no hurry to get up and at 'em most mornings and were more than happy to just laze about and enjoy each other's company.

I have loved all the travel time this summer, mainly because it has afforded me TONS of time to read!! I've read 6 books already and have started 2 more. I've got 2 more lined up to go after that. I. am in. heaven.

I'm actually reading so much that I had a dream last night starring 3 of my favorite authors. It was very bizarre, but a much welcomed respite from the Saudi teacher dreams I've been having for the past week.

It's the plight of every teacher in the world. Two to three weeks before the start of the new school year, the teacher dreams return. My teacher friends will understand what I'm talking about. Friends who have worked in the food service industry can also relate.

In my teacher dreams, it's 10 minutes before first period, my students have all shown up early, my principal is demanding I do a million tasks, and I still have to make my copies for the day. I had a similar variation of these dreams when I was in high school and worked at a 50s diner. I was swamped, in the weeds with more tables than I could handle and co-workers that wouldn't pick up any new arrivals because they weren't on the floor anymore.

I usually wake up from those types of dreams more tired than when I went to sleep.

It's been interesting, however, to see how my teacher dreams have changed since moving to Saudi. Last night's dream (before the dream about my favorite authors), for example, involved the addition of male students to my classroom. I was about 3 hours in to the school day before I noticed. And when I did comment on the fact that there was suddenly a surge of testosterone on my class roster, I was blamed for letting the boys enter the school at all! I was immediately told by my principal to cover up and get the boys out, and apparently I was the only person responsible for this task.

What would Freud have to say about that?

Vicariously yours,

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