Detritus

There's something appealing about a 10 year old saying the word "detritus." I'm not sure what it is, but there's a scientific brutal quality of the word that loses its edge when spoken by an innocent child.

Me: What do barnacles eat?

Student: Plankton and detritus.

Me: What's detritus?

Student: Dead stuff.

There's a lot of dead stuff in my life right now. My allergies have flared again and if I could, I would live my life with my eyes closed or underwater in a slightly cool pool. Work is hectic. No, work is work -- stressful and hurried, emotional and exhausting. And then there's the puppy. Cute, but a lot of energy. He charms me one minute and infuriates me the next.

I think about all of those "dog" books I've read and videos I've watched and all of them offer this advice: Be Consistent.

But the key isn't consistent, it's persistent. For what seems like hours I must be persistent.

"No bite. No bite. Good no bite." "Off. Off. Off. Good off." "No bark. No bark. No bark" followed by a torturous time out on one of his many beds and the painful look of puppy remorse, head cocked, ears up.

It feels much the same for all areas of my life. There is a month left of teaching to go. This class will move on. I'll miss them, but then again I won't. The kids are feverish with spring somehow thinking it isn't spring at all, rather summer and therefore vacation and all bets are off. All rules have been forgotten. All boundaries erased. No limits. "Silence. Silence. Silence. Good silence."

My co-workers are as exhausted as I am and everyone is holding on by a thin tendon of tension. "No meeting. No meeting. No meeting."

I need a time out.

I find myself complaining and this is not something I really want to do. I want to be positive and hopeful...to see the blue skies as something other than a trigger for pollen irritation. I want to see the nagging behaviors of my students as signs of growth and rapture. I want to see all the efforts throughout the year paying off. I want to be focused on end-of-the year meetings not feeling as if a sharp stick in the eye would be more fun.

I want the puppy to stop biting on all the things he shouldn't...like my hands or my ankles.

My life is a pile of "I wants." Fat, juicy, drippy I wants. Needy, whiny, and nasty I wants. Dreamy, slippery, and skinny I wants. Hurtful, demanding, impatient I wants. I wants that taste bitter and sour. I wants that make my glands in the back of my throat puff up and choke me with saliva.

Detritus "I wants" on which I can only feed.

And now the puppy has just curled up under my feet, content. This is what I want...a place to curl up and rest.

Soon.