It’s not like I’m an insomniac. Sleep is one of the three things I do really well. Actually, I don’t do those other two things very well anymore, so let’s just say it: Sleep may be my thing.
But lately I find myself staring at the ceiling at indecent hours in the morning, wondering if I can fit 48 minutes worth of Macbeth into a 65 minute class period. And I think to myself, “Sheesh, already. You can’t change how many minutes are in a class period. Let it go.” And then I stare at the wall for a change.
If I were being productive during that time (generally less than an hour, generally in the 4s), maybe I’d appreciate it. Maybe I’d love to find those elusive 45 minutes. But it seems obscene, somehow, to get out of bed at 4:12 am and STAY UP. Also, it’s cold.
So I stare at the ceiling, or at the wall, and I feel grateful for these 200 sophomores that fill up my school hours. And I feel excited that there are only 5 more school days until a real, full, 2-week Christmas break filled with my family actively doing nothing together. And I wonder if, maybe, when I’m not figuring this teaching thing out for the first time, the easy-sleeping talent will return to me.
It could happen.