Payday. Bittersweet. As happy as we should be that our meager monthly checks are finally coming into our possession, there is just a drab and dragging aura pulling us all down. Well, some of us. The cramped room in which we occupy is beginning to get muggy, and yet, in the same instance, I feel cold. I ponder this odd feeling, but quickly become distracted as the cheer of my children playing Scrabble rise above a normal level. My partner hushes them with ease, as she herself seems perfectly content and occupied playing with the children. Our specialty was canceled, and in our split second of desperation, had decided on board games. Lots of board games.
I sat in the teacher's desk, which was an action explicitly forbidden, but with the way the game boards were set up, I was significantly more comfortable pulled and nestled tightly in the swivel chair. My head against the damp window pane, I daze. It perplexes me how I could be sitting in a warm and muggy room, nestled against a window with a class of third graders, and yet, where there are not five inches of cement between me and the outside world, the winds rage below zero and the rain pelts so hard it hurts your skin. Although I would much rather be indoors, the sound and rhythm of the raindrops soothe my otherwise raging internal emotions. My thoughts cease as I am suddenly aware that the window is leaking, and the roots of my hair quickly dampen. I rearrange myself in hopes that I will find a new and more comfortable position, and as I hike my left leg up, folding my right leg underneath me, I could die of boredom. 4:29 p.m. I begin to spin my chair in circles, both clockwise and counterclockwise. I pursue this new and enticing activity until the children stare as if I was in a mental institution, so I stop. I check the clock again. 4:31 p.m. I am now tempted to crawl under the desks and sleep, but I know I'd risk serious trouble from the office. I search desperately for some relief, and pray to the gods of entertainment that maybe, something shiny will catch my eye. I roll my chair over to my partner and assume another position, pulling my knees to my chest and leaning my head on the back of Colleen's chair.
The gods do not take long to answer my plea of desperation. A small thud echoes above my head. Steven has pushed his face up against the glass window on the door. His face perfectly fits the size of the window, his handsome features flattening out against the pane. He seems different to me-sad almost. His eyes that usually are jumping with life behind them seem worelorn. At first I worry- for Steven to be so subdued, something must be wrong. I rack my brain, then finally comprehend; my friend and I connect on a level only we could understand- sheer boredom. He grins slyly at first, making me crack up. I lighten up, and Steve continues to smile brilliantly- a smile I absolutely adore. I coyly wink and blow a kiss, casually joking, as we both blush and laugh. He waves, conveying a message I clearly understand: "The gym opened up and I have to teach a class...I'll talk to you later."
A fleeting emotion- for those five seconds- I forgot how bored I was. Flushed and laughing, I look down at the Scrabble board Colleen has been filling out, a clear difference between her words and the kids. I smile, knowing there was only one hour left until I was free for the weekend.
I sat in the teacher's desk, which was an action explicitly forbidden, but with the way the game boards were set up, I was significantly more comfortable pulled and nestled tightly in the swivel chair. My head against the damp window pane, I daze. It perplexes me how I could be sitting in a warm and muggy room, nestled against a window with a class of third graders, and yet, where there are not five inches of cement between me and the outside world, the winds rage below zero and the rain pelts so hard it hurts your skin. Although I would much rather be indoors, the sound and rhythm of the raindrops soothe my otherwise raging internal emotions. My thoughts cease as I am suddenly aware that the window is leaking, and the roots of my hair quickly dampen. I rearrange myself in hopes that I will find a new and more comfortable position, and as I hike my left leg up, folding my right leg underneath me, I could die of boredom. 4:29 p.m. I begin to spin my chair in circles, both clockwise and counterclockwise. I pursue this new and enticing activity until the children stare as if I was in a mental institution, so I stop. I check the clock again. 4:31 p.m. I am now tempted to crawl under the desks and sleep, but I know I'd risk serious trouble from the office. I search desperately for some relief, and pray to the gods of entertainment that maybe, something shiny will catch my eye. I roll my chair over to my partner and assume another position, pulling my knees to my chest and leaning my head on the back of Colleen's chair.
The gods do not take long to answer my plea of desperation. A small thud echoes above my head. Steven has pushed his face up against the glass window on the door. His face perfectly fits the size of the window, his handsome features flattening out against the pane. He seems different to me-sad almost. His eyes that usually are jumping with life behind them seem worelorn. At first I worry- for Steven to be so subdued, something must be wrong. I rack my brain, then finally comprehend; my friend and I connect on a level only we could understand- sheer boredom. He grins slyly at first, making me crack up. I lighten up, and Steve continues to smile brilliantly- a smile I absolutely adore. I coyly wink and blow a kiss, casually joking, as we both blush and laugh. He waves, conveying a message I clearly understand: "The gym opened up and I have to teach a class...I'll talk to you later."
A fleeting emotion- for those five seconds- I forgot how bored I was. Flushed and laughing, I look down at the Scrabble board Colleen has been filling out, a clear difference between her words and the kids. I smile, knowing there was only one hour left until I was free for the weekend.
