This last week, my family and I went to Anaheim in order to worship at the Altar of the Great Mouse. We had a lovely time, visiting both Disney Parks for a couple of days each. My youngest is four years old and hadn't been to Disneyland yet, so it was enjoyable to see how excited he was to see the parks. We managed to squeeze in a viewing of Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2 before the trip, so he was particularly happy at the frequent banners showing off Baby Groot. My seven-year-old was only disappointed when we went on "slow rides" (which, I guess, would be like Pinocchio or Snow White?) because he is--and I didn't know this--a roller-coaster fiend. Big thrills are big for him, apparently. Additionally, he lost a tooth while there, which not many people can claim. Lastly, my oldest (he's 10 now), simply loved the whole thing--except for leaving and when we got after him for breaking his friend's wheelchair (my son has half a heart, so we put him in a wheelchair to conserve his energy and let him go on more rides). On the whole, we had an incredible time as a family.
One of the unexpected highlights was getting a chance to visit my friend, who lives in California and works at Blizzard. He took us to his offices, where I got to see a bunch of artwork, sculptures, and cool memorabilia from one of my favorite games, Overwatch.
The real joy, however, was hanging out with an old buddy, his wonderful wife, and their four children. Due to life, its busyness, and the way friendships dwindle with distance and duties, I haven't been able to keep up to date with many of my high school friends. I have a couple that I see on a fairly regular basis, but being in the company of my pal, his familiar laugh, great sense of humor, and inspiring parenting methods made me realize how much I missed having friends.
Teaching is a joy, and I really love my job. I teach tenth grade (mostly) because the students are old enough to grapple with large, important ideas, but young enough that they think that I'm a funny guy, not realizing most of my jokes are just rehashes of Simpsons quotes and random tweets I remember. The downside to spending upwards of eight hours a day in the classroom is that one's peer group starts to feel like, well, high school. I share my classroom, so the other teacher in the room is often a nice change of pace--having someone who's going through the same things as I can be useful. My wife, being a teacher, too, provides that balance often, too. We can commiserate about the profession in ways that are truly empathetic, rather than simply sympathetic.
Because of my schedule, I no longer get to spend enough time hanging out, talking to, and enjoying the company of my real peer group. (It should also be said that being an adult, where the peer group is technically "anyone over the age of 18" is strange; we have a lot of diversity of experience and age in our school, but all of the teachers are supposed to be my "peers" in the ambiguous, grown-up way of adulthood.) I take lunch in the faculty room almost every day simply to spend twenty-five minutes in the presence of friends. It's not a lot--and it probably isn't enough--but it's a great way of feeling connected to a larger, more mature world.
Disneyland was magical and memorable and wonderful--as it always is--but I found the true delight of the whole thing finding time to rap with my friend. We drove to the store to buy dinner, I made them a meal one night, and we spent a late evening, sitting outside around their propane fire-pit, talking until after midnight. Just talking. (Though, in the interest of honesty, I talked a lot. As always, my buddy listened, contributed, and was a good friend through my hours of rambling.) It was therapeutic and one of the highlights of the trip.
That's something I would never have been able to understand when I was a kid: The best part of a trip to California wasn't Disney or the beach, but...talking? Pffsh.
Nevertheless, that's the case. Having taken that time away from everything else now makes me excited about returning to school (one week sooner than I ever really want to), if only because it means I'll get to spend some time with my friends.
We'll probably talk a lot.
One of the unexpected highlights was getting a chance to visit my friend, who lives in California and works at Blizzard. He took us to his offices, where I got to see a bunch of artwork, sculptures, and cool memorabilia from one of my favorite games, Overwatch.
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| This wall was not the coolest wall in the place, which says something. (Credit: Gayle Dowdle) |
Teaching is a joy, and I really love my job. I teach tenth grade (mostly) because the students are old enough to grapple with large, important ideas, but young enough that they think that I'm a funny guy, not realizing most of my jokes are just rehashes of Simpsons quotes and random tweets I remember. The downside to spending upwards of eight hours a day in the classroom is that one's peer group starts to feel like, well, high school. I share my classroom, so the other teacher in the room is often a nice change of pace--having someone who's going through the same things as I can be useful. My wife, being a teacher, too, provides that balance often, too. We can commiserate about the profession in ways that are truly empathetic, rather than simply sympathetic.
Because of my schedule, I no longer get to spend enough time hanging out, talking to, and enjoying the company of my real peer group. (It should also be said that being an adult, where the peer group is technically "anyone over the age of 18" is strange; we have a lot of diversity of experience and age in our school, but all of the teachers are supposed to be my "peers" in the ambiguous, grown-up way of adulthood.) I take lunch in the faculty room almost every day simply to spend twenty-five minutes in the presence of friends. It's not a lot--and it probably isn't enough--but it's a great way of feeling connected to a larger, more mature world.
Disneyland was magical and memorable and wonderful--as it always is--but I found the true delight of the whole thing finding time to rap with my friend. We drove to the store to buy dinner, I made them a meal one night, and we spent a late evening, sitting outside around their propane fire-pit, talking until after midnight. Just talking. (Though, in the interest of honesty, I talked a lot. As always, my buddy listened, contributed, and was a good friend through my hours of rambling.) It was therapeutic and one of the highlights of the trip.
That's something I would never have been able to understand when I was a kid: The best part of a trip to California wasn't Disney or the beach, but...talking? Pffsh.
Nevertheless, that's the case. Having taken that time away from everything else now makes me excited about returning to school (one week sooner than I ever really want to), if only because it means I'll get to spend some time with my friends.
We'll probably talk a lot.