As I sit here lesson planning on my couch on this beautiful Sunday afternoon I have to stop and think about how very different my life will be soon. I feel like I am killing myself for a job that is counting down until it isn’t mine any more. I am trying my best to cram the most important work of the year into a smaller period of time. I’m trying to figure out how I can give these kids a more full year of English than they have gotten in other years despite the fact that I won’t be there for the last 1/6 or more of it. I care about this work, but it drains my energy and saps my will to live. Many people keep telling me that I will be dying to come back to work after staying home for the summer with a baby… I can’t say yet that they are wrong, but I really doubt that I am going to be eager to get back to this. Why would I want to come back to a job that barely allows me to have a relationship with Noah, let alone cleaning my house (no one is welcome in my bathroom right now), let alone going to the grocery store and making food sometimes instead of eating out, let alone have enough time to properly enjoy my growing child? I’m sure I will miss things about teaching but I don’t think I will miss it enough to want to teach. As I sit here designing lessons for the next nine weeks that will keep me up late at night making tests and quizzes and figuring out how to hook kids into giving me a decent introduction… No. I can’t believe that I would rather do this than be with my child.