Summer

The whole point of taking the summer off from teaching is that you get to do whatever you want, or more specifically, don’t have to do anything you don’t. 

So it’s a bit contrary to the spirit of the season that I signed myself up for a couple of professional responsibilities, namely a philosophy for children workshop for public school teachers and a community of inquiry conference in Vancouver, Canada this Friday and Saturday.

Consequently, I’m on the train, heading north from Seattle for a couple of days in Canada’s San Francisco, where I’ll sit in hotel rooms talking about big ideas for little people, an activity that, while I’m all for it generally, definitely cuts into the naptime that characterizes how I like to spend my time between June and September most of the time.

I guess I can’t complain too much; after all, I’m getting to do what I like to do more or less, but when I compare it to what I could be doing if I weren’t, then it does feel a bit like the days are going by more quickly than I wish they would, especially since it’s already the time of year that the nights are starting to get longer, incrementally.

The problem, of course, is exacerbated by our ability, as human beings, to look ahead and imagine the future before it arrives.  For example, I can already see July unfolding, then August, and before I know it, there I am back in the classroom and it’s almost like the summer never even happened.  I cast myself forward so quickly that I fail to experience the moment I’m in; instead of enjoying the days I have off, I start fretting about the days I’ll have on, and rather than enjoying a nap, I’m prepping for a class so far in advance that I’ll have forgotten what my plans were by the time it rolls around.

But what’s forty-eight hours after all?