The muffins she carried

She didn’t look excited to get somewhere, however, she also didn’t look frustrated that she wasn’t getting somewhere. The look at her face was determined, yet at the same time peaceful, taking in every breath as she walked briskly, putting one foot in front of another. In her hands set a stack of books, and on top of the books, a plate full of muffins. She was dressed nicely, wearing high heels, and a skirt. She efficiently passed a couple that was walking slowly, holding hands, both of them looking serious and not talked with one another. She was on her way to her first day at a new job. Oh, but this wasn’t just any old job. This job, this was her dream job. She had worked several places before, you know, little jobs here in there, just to make sure the ends met, but with this job, she was finally doing what she had dreamed of doing for so many years.

Teaching. It was finally her first day teaching on a college campus. Her thoughts were going wild with things that could go well, things that could go bad, but mostly she couldn’t stop thinking of what her favorite college professor always used to tell her. He would say, “Do what you can to develop relationships with your students, because after the class, they will not be your students, but they may be your friends.”

You see, her professor so easily said that, but how did this actually look? She continued to ponder this as she made her way towards the building where her first class would begin, a mere twenty minutes later. She carried muffins, which she planned on giving to her first morning class. Every college student likes home made food right? Especially when they are away from home for such a long time. But was she bribing them to like her, she asked herself.

She was tired of always being late. Her two-year-old had kept her awake merely half the night—and then, this morning when it was time for her to go to Grandmas, did she want to get up? No. It is as though she knows when to, and when not to sleep, and how much it will get on my nerves.

Keep your focus on what you are getting ready to do, she told herself as she entered the classroom in which her 9 o’clock class met. She had organized everything the night before, where her classes were meeting, the amount of time she would need. Oddly enough, she felt more nervous than she ever felt in her entire elementary, middle school, high school, and college career. Why was it like this? When finally given the opportunity to do what she dreamed of doing, she is the most nervous she has felt in years. As the door shuts behind her in the classroom, a door shuts inside her heart, blocking out all past experiences and insecurities that could hold her back.

She lays the muffins on the table, organizing the napkins in a separate pile. She gazed at the clock in the back of the room and realized that there was only five minutes left before class was supposed to begin. How many students were in the classroom? None. Her heart began to beat quickly as she opened her notebook, checking to make sure that she was in the correct building, on the correct floor, and in the correct room. Sure enough, everything checked out, she was where she was supposed to be. But where was her class?

At the college she attended, being tardy to class was a big deal. Her motto was, if you can’t learn to be responsible in the little things in life, you will never learn how to be responsible for the big things in life.

Two minutes pass, two more minutes pass, two more minutes pass. She glances up at the clock yet again. Only two after nine, she thinks to herself, as she peels the plastic wrap off of the muffins. An aroma of fresh blueberry’s overtake her senses as she pulls a blueberry muffin off the plate and takes a seat. As she looks out across the empty classroom, a single tear trickles down her face.

She begins to realize that her baby girl is with her grandma, growing up so quickly, and she is not even able to see the process. Why did I choose to work anyway, she thinks to herself. Yes, I love to teach, but what I love even more is spending time with my family. Engulfed in thought and emotion, she doesn’t even realize that a figure has entered the room, and sat in the desk before her. She suddenly looks up. “Oh, I didn’t even see you,” she says.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her closely. It was almost as though he could see right inside her. Finally, after a few minutes he says, “You aren’t supposed to be here, go home to your baby.” As she sits, looking into the eyes of this peculiar person who sat before her, she almost begins to chuckle to herself. She thinks to herself, what does he know about me? She simply sits there, not saying anything. She wanders why anyone would ever come into her class and tell her, the professor, that she isn’t supposed to be there. Isn’t the professor supposed to do that? At least that’s how it happened when I was in school, she thinks to herself.

“Wah Wah Wah”…she sits up quickly in bed, looking over only to see her husband still sound asleep. She stubbles out of her room and into her two-year old daughters room. As she picks up the baby that she holds so dear to her heart, she realizes that she could never let her go. Thoughts of teaching come to her mind and she realizes that this is the only thing in which she was made to be…teach and be a homemaker. After she rocks her little girl to sleep and slowly lays her back into her bed. She makes her way down to her computer. Turning on Microsoft word, she begins typing:

“I’m sorry to inform you that after 25 years my teaching days have come to an end…”