SCHOOL'S OUT FOR SUMMER

 School is out for the summer. I survived! Truth be told, I had an excellent group of students, and I wish I could hold them all back for a year just to have them again. I doubt their parents would like that very much, though.

Summer starts with a bang -- literally. The apartment upstairs is being renovated, and the only road in and out of my complex is being repaired and redone, so today the workers are breaking up the macadam. I have to get to an out-of-state wedding, but Friday there will be little to no road access, and, what access there will be, might damage shoes, car tires, and anything it touches (glue and oil day). So, I will get out of Dodge a day early, go to Maine, then go to New Jersey, and enjoy the sweet, sweet summer . . .

Rain. Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. That's all it has been doing for weeks now. Goshdang, ridiculous, disgusting, constant, downpouring RAIN. That's even the forecast for the places I am going: RAIN.

The last day of work was supposed to be partly sunny. Just after the students left and around our lunch-meeting time, someone said, "Oh, look! It's raining!"

"Gee," I responded, completely deadpan, "what a surprise."

Before you start bemoaning my lament, please remember that teachers get the summers off for two reasons: One is for everyone's mental health. If we didn't have an extended break right as burnout maxes, no one would want to continue being in school with us. The second reason is economic. Teachers do NOT get PAID over the summer. Nope. We go eight weeks (or more if it's a 27-biweekly year like this one is) without earning or being paid a single cent (even though most of us do curriculum over the summer -- for free). You can be jealous all you want, but that's coin in the taxpayers' pockets. 

You're welcome.

That's right, I said it. You're welcome for me being unpaid while fighting renovators in my building and tar-smashers on my access road. Don't be mad when I post beach pictures or mountain photos or scenic vista panoramas. Just remember that every adventure I'm on is money in your wallet because I'm not sitting in a classroom . . . missing my students already . . . wondering if they'll remember to come by and say hello when September rolls around.