For a teacher, the last Sunday night of a break is always bitter sweet. I’m anxious to get back to a routine. I miss having my coffee in my classroom. I almost miss being exhausted at the end of the day from dealing with Trouble Timmy and Annoying Arthur…and their parents. I crave that potential at the start of a unit. We’re about to get in to our research portion, and I’m sure I’ll regret assigning it soon.

I’ve enjoyed these two weeks.I’ve had a great time hanging out with my family and enjoying the “down time” (if you can call it that). I’ll ask my students when they come back Tuesday if they had a good break, and I’ll get one of four answers:

1. “It was great! But I am glad to be back. Let’s learn!” (Yeah, right.)
2. “It was good. Wish I was back home, though.” (I’ll guess this is about 27% of the answers I’ll get).
3. “I hated the break. I’m so glad it’s over. And I hate you.” (Bout right).
4. 

My Boring, Typical Answer
“My break was good. It was full of family and friends.” I like that answer. That answer means the good outweighed the bad. I got to see my brother and his family, my side of the family, the wife’s side of the family, and some good friends.

But one thing you need to understand about a boring answer is that the person telling it doesn’t want to get too far into it. It was fine. It was good. And we all know those words don’t measure up. The water is still. But what I know is that I had a great thing happen this break and a bad thing happen this break, and it all kind of evens out.

The Good

I’m still recovering from the quick trip down I-55 to New Orleans to attend the Sugar Bowl. My alma matter, Ole Miss, manhandled a wannabe Oklahoma State team. It’s always fun to answer the question of, “How good are you?” Ole Miss answered that. The other SEC teams did well (minus Florida and Texas A&M), so I guess the SEC is legit. Go figure. The trip was fun. The game was great.  The results were even better. I did get to see some sights in New Orleans—some good, some bad. I’ll write later on the homeless guys I met. Their situations broke my heart, but also made me think of a few things, but more on that at a later date.

The Bad

Last Sunday, I went hunting in the morning. I was sitting in the stand, seeing nothing, and I thought I was out of luck, yet again when I see a doe sprinting at me. I knew a buck had to be right behind her because the rut is in. I went to raise my rifle and picked it up upside down. The scope flipped it in my hand. I had to try to right my gun when the two deer ran past me. So, I stood in the ladder stand and turned. She must have heard me, so she turned on a dime and sprinted back the same way she came. Mr. Buck was confused and turned to see where she went. He must have smelled me because he started looking around. I sighted him in and made a clean shot. I was proud that I bagged a buck from a standing position.

What’s so bad about that? Well, I went to get my truck so I could

take him to the meat processor. I come around the corner and run over a pine log that I thought I had moved out of the way. I load up my deer and head back to town. As I’m driving down the interstate, I notice that my check engine light is on. I’m not that far from home, so I keep going. Mistake. By the time I get home, my truck shuts down.

A tow and a mechanic later, we’ve discovered I’ve punctured my radiator and ran my truck hot. I’ve learned that’s not a good idea. I blew my head gaskets and won a chance to buy a new engine. Now, it’s not “new” but it’s new to me (love saying that…but not really).

The New Year Has to Bring Better Luck
I keep saying that to myself. Maybe this semester will go swimmingly. Maybe I’ll catch a break here and there. Maybe I’ll finally finish my Master’s (that I can promise you will happen…maybe). Maybe someone will find me and say they love my writing so much that they want to give a million dollars.

I’ll be holding my breath for that. Help me when I pass out. And if you need to take me to the hospital, put me in the back of that Tacoma.

Please avoid all downed pine logs.