School was supposed to start back yesterday. It is odd to send kids and teachers back on Thursday after a week and a half off. It's unlikely the kids I teach will come back for two days. It is six degrees below zero with a wind and any kid waiting for a bus will come to school ready to beat the snot out of the superintendent who didn't close the school. I'll have half a mind to do the same.
Yesterday, the schools our program serves closed due to the snow. This morning, before 5:30, our schools have closed and I'm waiting on my superintendent to close our program. I can imagine us remaining open and me having to show up even if there are no kids. Such is the way of our system, but I remain hopeful that we will be given the day.
Times like these I imagine a job I would want to work no matter how cold it was, no matter how high the snow. Such jobs exist. I'm as sure of that as I am of not liking the job I have now. Come to think of it, I'm doing the job I want right now. Regardless how little sleep I've had, at 4:40, I get up with my alarm and come down to write. I've done so every morning for two months. Even when there seems nothing in my head to write I still sit type and feel good enough to keep going.
My best friend theorizes that I just can't work for anyone. I want to work for someone I respect and admire, who inspires and pushes me to be better. I'm learning that boss is a voice inside that sounds just like me. It says that I can do better, that I can be extraordinary. It comes to me now as I say the words quietly to myself as I type.
The school closings are coming in now, but my program remains open. I don't want to go. I don't want to work there any more. I want to stay here in this nook and listen to my voice pushing me to do more and become more of a man. I want to stay here all day and write on.
(School closed ten minutes after I finished drafting this. Amen.)