Dog Days of Summer

The ancient Greeks and Romans may have thought them evil (yes, I just looked up the origin of that phrase, o wondrous internets that you are), but I have been lovin' me those dog days. Delightful, delicious, de-lovely indeed. Floating in the hammock, floating in the river, floating all around. It's the first summer I've actually had off since I started teaching. But. Here they are, almost at an end; I was back at school today getting the room ready... I actually have a bit more time but it's pretty packed - we're headed to Burning Man, and then I have a family trip planned, and then I get back right in time for the bell to ring. Except there are no bells where I teach. Hurrah for that.

And while I do love me some sum-sum-summertime, I think it's kind of a cruel trick we play: for 12 or 16 or more years of our lives, we get oodles of vacation, 3 months off at summer, a couple weeks in the winter, fall and spring, and oh why not take this holiday and that one too... and then bang! You're supposed to grow up and get a job with 2 weeks off? Working 50 weeks? 40-hour or more weeks? What you talkin' bout, Willis? Luckily, even though I didn't go straight into teaching, I never have worked 50 weeks in a row. Oy. Of course, devil's advocate poking his wiry snout up here - all that time off, especially over summer, and the kids have forgotten everything they learned last year. There's a certain amount of 2-steps-forward, 1-step-back involved. But hey, that's the least of what's wrong with our education system, and it's too late and I'm too calm to go into all that.

Point is, I'm coming around to the notion of going back to school, knowing that I've got one last befeathered and be(faux)furred fling ahead of me in the Black Rock Desert. But I don't think I'll be bringing those photos to show and tell.