Wave of Relief
You can't tell me that's not the perfect description for it. Like a heartbeat, it hits you at once. It flows from the top of your head, rippling through your chest, ebbing and flowing through your entire body, and resting somewhere in the pads of your big toes.
They call it a "wave of relief" and a wave it surely is.
I fell asleep last night willing my eyes to stay open because I had a big presentation to finish for my Tuesday night class, but my exhaustion won out. I woke up panicked but with a plan.
The project was nearly finished, but I needed about an hour to polish it up, type up a short response paper, and come up with some questions to discuss with my class. My brain already started the calculations: my 30 minutes of lunch time would have to be chopped for today. Any down time while my students were reading would be time for me to read over my material. And that precious 30 minute block right after the final bell until the moment I lock up my classroom for the day would be the home stretch.
It could be done. An unpleasant schedule for the day, sure, but it would work.
I settled my first period class into their silent reading time, sat at my computer to take roll and saw the email.
Class.
Is.
Cancelled.
That wave hit the shoreline of my racing mind, washing through me from top to bottom. Its edges lapped against my nerves, smoothing their frayed edges. My mouth involuntarily curved into a smile, bringing a sense of calm so significant that I didn't know how much I needed it until that moment. My breathing slowed.
A seemingly small wave made a large impact on my day. Tides turned.
They call it a "wave of relief" and a wave it surely is.
I fell asleep last night willing my eyes to stay open because I had a big presentation to finish for my Tuesday night class, but my exhaustion won out. I woke up panicked but with a plan.
The project was nearly finished, but I needed about an hour to polish it up, type up a short response paper, and come up with some questions to discuss with my class. My brain already started the calculations: my 30 minutes of lunch time would have to be chopped for today. Any down time while my students were reading would be time for me to read over my material. And that precious 30 minute block right after the final bell until the moment I lock up my classroom for the day would be the home stretch.
It could be done. An unpleasant schedule for the day, sure, but it would work.
I settled my first period class into their silent reading time, sat at my computer to take roll and saw the email.
Class.
Is.
Cancelled.
That wave hit the shoreline of my racing mind, washing through me from top to bottom. Its edges lapped against my nerves, smoothing their frayed edges. My mouth involuntarily curved into a smile, bringing a sense of calm so significant that I didn't know how much I needed it until that moment. My breathing slowed.
A seemingly small wave made a large impact on my day. Tides turned.
🖤MK
#SOL18 Day 6
Great comparison to a wave. And you built the story so well, I was relieved for you!
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