Brooke E. Wayne: Romance with a Kiss of Humor

It’s Been One of Those Weeks, You Know (A glimpse of life as a Middle School teacher)

It’s been one of those weeks, you know. It started on Monday before the crack of dawn, only, instead of getting ready for work, I’m hurling up everything I ate for the last 24 hours because the stomach flu always waits for that perfect moment to strike. You know, the one right after you just had the most delicious bowl of homemade, Mexican tortilla soup, so that it will take years before you can ever eat that again. Such a prankster, the flu. And then, when I go ahead and take on Tuesday, I try to wing it with my students in the library on the laptops with a program that I’ve only messed around with since last week, and, of course, nothing goes right, you know, but that doesn’t deter the librarian from deciding that I’m going to help her pitch the program to the staff on Thursday because, “It’s great,” she says, “But don’t tell the other teachers about all the glitches.”

I don’t even know where to begin with Wednesday. Should I mention the laryngitis, or the sinus infection, or the fact that both of my children were tossing their cookies all day thanks to that sneaky flu? Meh, I’ll just skip it and go straight to Thursday because, you know, that day was loaded with lots of fun. The staff room conversation includes the mutual understanding that we were all sensing a wild vibe among the students since they had come back from Christmas break, and then one of our newer, younger teachers on staff blurts out, “Well, I finally had the masturbator in class today! I knew someday it would come to this. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon in my career!” And, we all laugh because we’ve all been there and had to deal with that. We teach middle school, you know. So, some of us offer her advice, but no words of wisdom can ever replace the truth that comes with realizing that it’s never going to be okay to say, “All right, students, take out something to write on and something to write with, and pull your hand out of your pants, please.” But wouldn’t it make our jobs easier if we could every now and then, you know? And, we do our best to assure her that it might not ever happen again, but it doesn’t seem to help.

And then, later that day, I’m squeaking out my best, “Hurrah!” to the staff in the library on the laptops that no one can log onto to see half of the wonderful program that the librarian has just given a huge speech on because it’s glitchy, but I’m not allowed to mention that, you know. And, I go home and watch, “Misery,” because there’s nothing quite as satisfying as an older movie about a stalker fan of someone’s writing, and I still manage to stay on top of all of my Blogging101 assignments no matter how sick everybody is, you know, because I’m finally getting the hang of it. So, Friday is a really big deal to me because I’m hoping I’ll get some rest knowing that there’s a three day weekend coming. So, my brain decides to start celebrating around 3:00am, you know, and, even though I’m wide awake, I can’t do anything productive because I feel like crap, and I know I should’ve stayed home all week and recovered from everything, but I didn’t because I’m in denial, and, so Friday just keeps getting longer and longer, and then I get home.

So, I’m just hanging out on my blog at the moment because I always get insomnia and have a tendency to ramble on and on when I don’t get enough sleep, and now it’s officially Saturday. I really hate that, you know….

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Brooke E. Wayne: Romance with a Kiss of Humor

Traditions

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Traditions can develop out of the most unlikely situations.  My family has a tradition around the holidays to play the movie “Elf” everyday from Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, which is generally reserved for the non-stop marathon of “The Christmas Story.”  Our children even named their creepy elves-on-the-shelves, which we would reposition every night for everyone’s amusement, Ralphie and Jovie after characters in both movies.

And, at my work, we have a tradition on campus that marked its 39th Anniversary today as the New Year has finally ushered in a new semester.  We call it, The Oldtimers’ Breakfast.  Past and present teachers fellowship over pancakes served up with a smile by the men on our staff.  Some of these former teachers come hobbling in with their stories of the good ol’ days when they used to ride their horses to the ‘new campus’ when it was just a handful of classrooms in a swampy field long before our tradition had begun.  Now over 80,000 cars drive by us on any given day.

Even my wooden pointer has this murky patina to it that rivals any antique.  It came with the classroom.  I wield it with pride because I know that I’m holding onto years of other teachers’ memories, even as I create my own.  The original school house is over a century old and sits as a monument just up the road from where our current campus is located, but even our newer campus is so old now, it has become irreparable.

Next year’s breakfast will mark the end of yet another era in our school’s history as an inevitable move is set to take place in the fall of 2016.  As long as our school bears its original name in our new location, we are still the same ol’ school, and we’ll all continue to gather together over breakfast and swap stories about our many experiences.  We’re an awkward family of strangers brought together by a common denominator…our love of teaching.

I don’t mind the impending move.  It’s long over due.  You can be assured, though, my pointer’s coming with me.  And, eventually, I’ll hand it off to someone else when I come hobbling in to get my fill of a plateful of pancakes someday.

Brooke E. Wayne: Romance with a Kiss of Humor

Living Present Tense

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I tend to live in the Future. Most people live in the Past. Not me. I plan for everything with my endless To-Do Lists and fine-tuned Schedule of Events Calendar. There is always something happening soon, and, I assure you, I have meticulously prepped for its arrival. But, sometimes, things don’t quite go as planned.

A couple of weeks ago, I had bought a box of macarons and a bottle of pink ‘champagne’–both prominent elements in my novel that I’m about to pitch. My plan was to partake of these scrumptious delectables as soon as I finished editing the novel in its entirely–query and synopsis included–in about a week per said scheduled event.

Then, I did something yesterday that I had to do. I departed from Scrivener and took on Microsoft Word for Mac to satisfy a particular submission requirement. Now, if you have no idea what Scrivener is, then jump to the next paragraph, but, if you do, then, you know. Oh. How. You. Know. It’s the most genius and complicated friend or foe known to any writer. In summary, the export did not go well.

After shedding a few tears from battling saving and renaming the file, bizarre margins, and pop-ups that made no sense to me–just to name a few angsts–I clamped my computer shut and sent it up stairs to serve a time out for the rest of the night. Instead of sulking about possibly missing my deadline because of the countless hours I would need to wade though instructional videos to figure out how to fix my growing list of problems, I decided to live in the Present Tense.

I marched into the kitchen, grabbed the box of macarons, started passing them around to my family like a fish monger, and handed over the bottle of ‘champagne’ for my husband to uncork for me. It was time to celebrate. It didn’t matter that things weren’t going as planned to me anymore. I was done. Maybe my manuscript still had some editing needs and creating a .docx submittal was going to provide me with all kinds of valuable lessons in patience to solve them in my near Future, but, nonetheless, I was finished, and I had been for weeks. Why hadn’t I acknowledged it, yet? What was I waiting for?

The future is always going to be out of reach for me, yet I still clamor towards it with my explicit plans. But, yesterday, I went all spontaneous on myself, and, by the end of the night, I was laughing instead of crying. Maybe the ‘champagne’ helped, but still. We had a party, and it couldn’t have come at a better time than in the Present Tense.