WHEN I'M NOT CHARLIE BROWN'S TEACHER

It's Halloween.  I don't have a costume.  I don't need a costume.  I'm a middle school teacher - There isn't anything on this Earth that's scarier.  Except silverfish.  And those nasty hornets that look like yellow jackets only red... Red jackets.  And maybe the Ebola Virus.  Yup, those things are scary, too.

I've looked at witches' hats a few times.  Eh.  Too expected.  I looked at the cheapo wigs, but why bother?  My real hair with its grays and fly-aways is far more frightening than synthetic horror. 

I am in the fabric store when I spot colored t-shirts.  Sure, the t-shirts are for decorating, but they're on sale plus I get a discount.  And, truth be told, I've no intention of decorating a shirt at this late hour (or any hour, for that matter).  I find the brightest orange shirt there is and search for my size.  There's an electric orange one that's a little big and a subtler orange one that's my size.  I buy them both plus a teal one just because.  All three together are $9 plus I get a teacher discount; three shirts for just over $7.  Score.

It's Halloween.  I'm going to wear the orange shirt (whichever one I decide on) over black school clothes, which is the best costume I can put together because it's quick, it's easy. it's cheap, and it requires no outrageous make-up.

"What are you suppose to be?" the kids will ask.  "A fluorescent ghost?  The first sign of Thanksgiving?  A construction worker? The sun?  The moon?"

No, no, no, no, and no.  I am something everyone wishes for but never sees.  No, not a middle school teacher who still has her sanity.  I'm something that has been elusive for decades and generations:  I'm the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

Happy Halloween, Kids.

(P.S.  Thank you, Red Sox, for wrapping this all up so I can sleep again.)