Mid-July
by nicolecallihan
Somehow, it’s happened. Winter turned to spring turned to me holding Eva in the sprinklers at the park, and soon–so soon–fall will peek her pretty little red head around the corner, curl her finger up like a comma, and say, Come hither, please.
I have visions of being in the classroom: I sit attached to a pump, and my students pretend not to notice. Worse yet, all my metaphors are linked to motherhood. We must nurse this exercise for all it’s worth, I tell them. A good beginning, I say, is the epidural of all essays–it makes for a far less painful experience for your readers!
Then, of course, is the fear that I’ve actually forgotten how to teach, that I’ll stumble into the room ten minutes late with a latte in my hand and say things like, so, uhm, what exactly is an essay, and does anyone have a pen I can borrow? (All the while, I’ll be checking my cellphone to see if the nanny is calling and looking down to make sure I haven’t sprung a leak.)
I guess the good news is summer’s just getting started. I have eight full weeks to replace all my dropping-the-baby dreams with uhm-hello-I’m-you’re-uhm-“teacher” dreams. Now, if I can just start getting some sleep…
The Blue Pitcher 
I think you are subconsciously preparing yourself for the “big” dream in which you look up and Eva is sitting in the first row in your NYU classroom texting her boy friend with a sly smile on her face, as if to be saying…”don't even think of anything but an A for me mommie dearest….”
that was a great post!
You are a fantastic teacher! It will come back to you, I know it will.