A Nice Long Rest
By: Klaus P. Michelsen
I had simply lost count. I had promised myself countless times I’d never go back to the full-time torture of teaching. Stress. Crazy students and crazier parents. Mountains of admin paperwork piling up on my desk–meaningless stuff that had nothing to do with learning. Burnout.
It seemed, however, that I could never keep any of those promises. Not that my word was worthless; it was just that the magic of the classroom always won. Every early morning, the structured chaos of learning somehow pulled me back into its spell. It was like that perfect combination of an upbeat jazz tune and the smell of freshly ground coffee I had learned to cherish during the daily breakfast rush.
This time was different, though.
More than twenty years in the trenches had passed since I first set foot in a large classroom in that coastal city in South America – where the weather was always humid and the ceviche always fresh. Come rain or shine, I had never called in sick. No matter how stressed or overwhelmed I felt, no matter how little sleep I had, I always put my students first.
“Dammit!” I moaned.
“What’s wrong, hon?”
“I’ve had it with teaching!”
Jacqueline didn’t say anything. She knew what was coming, having heard me say these exact words many times before.
“This time it’s for real. I mean it,” I said, sounding like a broken record to my own ears.
“You mean teaching in general, or just high school teaching?”
“Is that a multiple-choice question with only two options, boss?” I replied with a grin.
Jacqueline, whom I had nicknamed “The Boss” with a combination of open affection and secret resignation, knew that my sarcasm was just a subtle way of venting.
“Honey, I’m so sorry you feel that way. Come over here and give me a hug,” she said. She was also a teacher, but ten years younger. Unlike me, she taught math and physics. For her, teaching was everything except a paycheck at the end of the month. It was a mission. A way to serve others.
I did as I was told. I was pretty good at following orders; living under the same roof for a long time with a woman who cares for you deeply does that to you. As I threw my arms around her neck, with both of my hands free behind her, I began to multitask. I hugged her tightly with one arm and used the other to pull my smartphone from my back pocket. Opening YouTube behind her back, I quickly searched for a jazz tune titled “Freddie Freeloader“ from the classic Miles Davis album Kind of Blue. It didn’t take long for me to find the track; I clicked on the play icon, turned up the volume, and put the smartphone back in my pocket.
Hugging each other, completely out of the blue, we started to dance to the rhythm of Miles on trumpet, Trane on tenor sax, Cannonball on alto sax, Wynton Kelly on piano, Paul Chambers on bass, and Jimmy Cobb on drums. I spoke softly into her ear:
“I’m not twenty years old anymore, babe.”
“I already know that, hon.”
“I mean, I can no longer do everything on my own. I’m absolutely exhausted. Let someone else be Spider-Man.”
“Spider-Man?”
“Superman. I meant Superman.”
“Right.”
“Let someone else be the school’s hero. Let someone else wear his cape.”
“Why don’t you start from scratch? Why don’t you look for another job that you find fulfilling?”
“Already did. This right here is my new part-time job – dancing with you.”
She started to laugh.
“You should have gone into acting instead of teaching, you know?”
“The closest thing to it was my Latin dancing gig in Vancouver.”
“Sorry?” she asked incredulously.
She did have a point about me finding a meaningful job, as opposed to one in which I no longer recognized myself. But first, I needed to have a quick chat with our family doctor. It was an important talk I had been putting off for years. I’d left my mental health on the back burner for too long.
*
When I came back from my doctor’s appointment, the entire apartment smelled of dark chocolate zucchini brownies. Fresh out of the oven. Sprinkled with organic cinnamon. It wasn’t even my birthday, yet Jacqueline had already whipped up one of my favorite desserts.
“Smells delicious!”
“Only used your favorite 80% dark, organic chocolate.”
“Thanks, babe. Can’t wait to try some.”
“Better wait till it cools down, hon.”
“No probs. Guess what? Family doc says I need a break. A nice long rest.”
The doctor had succeeded where I had always failed: she had given me permission to stop – something that had always been unthinkable for me as a full-time teacher. Remember what I said about putting students first? That’s because I had never set clear boundaries for myself. Plus, with all the unrealistic expectations that this brutal system imposes on you – and with little to no support – you never have a fixed finish line because the finish line keeps moving. Even when you go home, you take the mental work with you. It’s like a conveyor-belt pizza oven that never really shuts down.
“Are… you… serious?” she asked.
“See for yourself,” I said, showing her the two-week sick leave certificate.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. In a state of complete awe, she stared at the tiny piece of paper as if I were holding a winning lottery ticket to freedom. Having never seen me call in sick for a single day, she had to pinch herself to make sure that what she was reading was real.
“It gets better. Once the two weeks are up, the doc says I can always ask for an extension. Basically, the ball is in my court.”
“And? Have you already made up your mind?” Jacqueline asked.
Something inside me made me feel guilty about the paid leave—the very first one in my long teaching career. Even though my body was dog-tired, my teacher’s heart somehow kept beating. This is what the nonsense mantra “teaching is a vocation” does to you.
“Is that an open-ended question or a closed one, boss?” I asked, jokingly.
“Do I only have two options, Big Chief?” she teased me back.
I thought, Time for a smooth piano ballad. I pulled my smartphone from my back pocket again. The YouTube search bar autocompleted one of my favorite slow instrumental tracks by Keith Jarrett.
Klaus P. Michelsen has worked on four continents and completed his graduate studies in education in the UK. His professional interests centre on the use of creativity and imagination in L2 learning, with a focus on fostering learner engagement through a range of formats and delivery modes, including music, drama, pencil-and-paper activities, and digital platforms. He is currently based in Bremen, Germany.