My husband of 42 years and best friend for 45 (yes, I had to use a calculator) now declares himself a Blogging Widower. He just came out here, where I am hunched over my computer, gave me a kiss, and announced his new status. He’s been a Teacher Widower for 41 years, so this is not an entirely new role for him. You would love him if you met him. All my students who have met him always ask when he’s coming back. He has made many runs to school when I frantically ask him to bring my lunch, that file folder, my purse, the materials I need RIGHT NOW to teach, my phone, and my planner (for all the good that has done me). He’s also made trips to school when I have taken his house and office keys to work; fortunately, he keeps his car keys in a separate place.
He writes a lot for his job but it’s slow going. First of all, he has really hard stuff to write. Second, he’s a perfectionist about that first paragraph. I agree that the first paragraph is important, but I’ve suggested he skip it and “just” start writing. But my husband is careful and precise and analytical. When he finishes something, it’s a jewel. My writing feels more like what you get out of a rock tumbler. A teaching tip: don’t tumble rocks in your class. It’s a lot like having a cement mixer parked in the room. There are no fumes but you can’t be heard above the rumble. And after all that racket, the outcome can be pure misery. Imagine the eager faces of kids who are waiting for huge, shiny gems to pocket, when their rocks and minerals have crumbled into dust. And the more paranoid ones think I have taken the diamonds out for myself. But who said there are no riches in teaching?