Not There

I'm not there.

I'm not at open house tonight.

I'm not welcoming new students and assuring their parents that I will dedicate my life for nine months to this child. I'm not stressing that I spelled every name correctly because that is so important to individuality. I'm not wishing that I had shaved all of my legs and not just to the knee to wear a nice skirt to meet the public. I'm not explaining why I chose to paint a wall-sized dragon on the wall. I'm not hoping that everyone understands about the supply fee. I'm not hoping that the cabinet door doesn't fail me and spill out everything that I didn't get done today as I prepared for open house. I'm not wondering if they didn't show up with their kids because they just don't care. I'm not giving out my cell and home phone number to complete strangers. I'm not reassuring any mom that what they heard is wrong and I don't give too much homework. I'm not exclaiming, "How much you have grown over the summer!". I'm not smiling and smiling and smiling. I'm not explaining why we don't have recess any more that is long enough to run from one end of the playground to the other. I'm not telling a grandmother not to worry that I will help her to love 3 kids that she didn't plan on raising. I'm not saying the tickets are for the kids and not a door prize. I'm not lamenting with the couple who asked why third graders don't get snacks. I'm not going over with a father the court documents that explain who can pick up this child. I'm not listening as mom says that little Johnny can't sit next to little Sammy or World War 3 will erupt. I'm not passing out packets of forms that are 10 inches thick. I'm not frantically trying to keep my cool as a wild little sister pours crayons out of boxes and eats 2 before anyone notices. I'm not popping with ideas that I forgot to tell Tara. I'm not lovingly opening a social studies book to show a child where the maps are in the back. I'm not agonizing that I can't serve 25 kids at one time. I'm not smiling when a child from way back passes the room and says, "HOW" and I say "scrambled". I'm not high on the possibilities of another year of teaching multiplication in the hall going to lunch. I'm not thinking of little songs and ditties to stick that science fact in that sweaty head forever. I'm not choked up when a child comes by and says, "you were my favorite teacher". I'm not listening to Amy tell me to watch out for deer on my drive home. I'm not hoping that at least 5 kids have computers at home. I'm not laughing as my parents tell me they are so glad that I have their child. I'm not wondering what they would all think if they saw the way I work on lesson plans. I'm not agreeing to go to the board after school and do math races with whichever child comes by. I'm not searching for a way to still fit board races into the day. I'm not exhilerated by the chance to see that this year is different for this child. I'm not enraged upon hearing that "we don't really expect much from him or her , cause they just ain't as smart as the older one" I'm not hugging and hugging, so glad to feel the power flowing through my veins. I'm not glancing one more time around and feeling a tiny zing as the anxiety of Monday and the first day jitters hits me. I'm not shaking my head over the fact that I used to teach monumental amounts of information and skills. I'm not thinking that I need to put pictures of my kids up on my computer to remind me of the important children that I gave birth to once. I'm not exclaiming when a friend brings by a sack of things they found this summer at yard sales and they thought of me and my plays. I'm not wondering what I forgot to do.

I'm not there.

I'm not alive right now. I'm not breathing. I'm not for sure how I will make it. I'm not giving up or in. I'm not going to tell you that I haven't lost the thing that I lived for. I'm not looking forward to the empty days of September. I'm not over it all yet.

I'm not there.