Diary II — Complaint Department
A high school teacher’s long commute to first period of the day
Our school begins the day at 7:30 a.m., when the first class bell sounds and students shuffle in with bed head and (sometimes) pajama pants. Many complaining.
I love my students, but I am not as sympathetic as I should be. They are tired, yes. Teenagers are tired.
I, an ancient fossil (at least in their eyes), hit the road at 5:15 every morning. The sky is dark and there is no light on the street with the exception of that emanating from the soft rays of a waxing gibbous moon. I don’t have time to prepare a breakfast or lunch. So. Three bananas it is.
I look into my rear view mirror to adjust it, but all I see is nothing. The reflection is completely black. Side view mirrors: same.
Halfway there, I finally reach a highway where going 20 miles over the speed limit is not fast enough for the fast lane and “wide loads” don’t really worry too much about infringing on your space. (Hey! They have a warning sign on the back of the truck! Isn’t that enough?) Where all drivers, even good ones, take their chances on every commute.
It’s only going to get worse, here in New England, as the mornings grow darker, the temperatures spiral and the invisible “black” ice of winter spells trouble for all of us. I know…
