Fire drill pranks…food fights…final exams. Yes, this school year’s coming to an end. I was so anxious to be over and done with this school year, that I took it upon myself to write the final exams for both the science subjects that I teach–much to the surprise of the other teachers since we were supposed to divide up the work and all write a part of the final. At times like these, I remind myself that if Moses was a committee, then the slaves would still be in Egypt.
Even though I’m bringing the 15th school year of my teaching career to a close, I still become giddy with anticipation of nearly 3 months of unstructured time. I have big plans of finishing my second novel’s rough draft, exercising more, promoting my first novel through readings and business-card dropping and reading even more than I already do.
Beside my nightstand, I have a pile of books and magazines that I read through every day. I no longer have the patience to simply have a pile of books that I’m going to get to. Actually, I still have THAT pile on my desk, but I’m referring to the pile of reading material that I’m actually reading through on a daily rotation. I’m sure there’s some neurosis that describes people who do that, but I like to humor myself as an eclectic reader who enjoys reading a wide variety of stuff on a daily basis. At least I always have something interesting to talk about. Even if it’s the fact that for the past 6 weeks or so, my pile of reading material consists of the Bible at the bottom and another enlightening book called Cunt on the top. My ritual is to transfer the intact pile from my nightstand to my bed and as I read a little from each, I then place them back onto the nightstand. I always start with the Bible, which is never taken out of rotation no matter how many times I read it.
Two things that are being temporarily taken out of rotation are my Spanish conversational and tango classes. I love those classes, but the flip side of taking classes is that that time is always obligated to those activities. So part of my stay-cation is doing some different things that I couldn’t do before since I was in those classes. I’m so glad that I have a good Spanish grammar book, which is going in the reading pile (as if you couldn’t see that one coming!) and I’m at the point in my tango dancing abilities that I can dance competently at a milonga, which I plan to attend on a regular basis so my skills won’t languish. One insightful thing I learned in my over-a-year studying of tango is the alternative interpretation of “it takes two to tango.”
At first blush, one thinks of two people, the leader and the follower. Recently, I went to tango class after drinking a margarita and a glass of wine and danced very well. So, I now think: it takes two (drinks) to tango.
Another useful piece of tango advice I heard while doing a grueling 3-day, 5-hour tango workshop was: “The man will be the king when the woman becomes the queen.” Again, at first glance, tango appears to be the most chauvinistic social dance, but as all men, whether beginner or advanced, realize, he cannot accomplish anything without the woman’s cooperation. And as in life, women are much more cooperative to the point of bending over backwards in sexy clothing and stylish shoes if she’s happy. When’s the last time you heard a group of men talking about how easy it is to make a woman happy? Such is life and so is tango. When it’s all the man’s responsibility to do something, then he gets all the blame when anything goes wrong.
The two classes I’m continuing are bikram yoga and capoeira. As a matter of fact, now that I’m going to have 3 months of mostly unstructured time, I’ll have the chance to do yoga at least twice a week rather than just once as my busy, school’s-in-session schedule would allow. I marvel at people who are my age and older who don’t do yoga. I don’t know how they manage to walk upright without constant back pain.
Now it may seem contadictory to practice capoeira if I’m concerned with back pain, but I love how capoeira keeps me in shape, especially my legs and butt although other women tend to notice my arms. I’ve heard from male friends that they notice too, but they claim they are not generally free to compliment a woman on her body since they run the risk of being slapped. I think something’s definitely wrong with the world since we have so many bad words to refer to a woman, but hardly ever receive a compliment since a man is afraid of bodily harm. Why isn’t the opposite the norm?
Fortunately, I’ll have plenty of time to contemplate that along with a host of many other questions I’ve not even thought of yet after Thursday! I officially kick off my vacation with a reading. Afterwards, who knows?