I know lots of people who, when they meet me, or hear about the things I do, or visit a storytelling or Zoo class I have done, say, "Wow, you must be a great Dad," or, "Your kids are so lucky to have a Dad like you!" I do not think this is not the case. Not even close.
Some might even take this faulty assumption to the next level and say something like, "I wish you were my Dad!" Not only is this a horribly inaccurate thing to say, it can be ridiculously inappropriate as well...in fact, that was a direct quote from a rather lager-sodden mother a recent trivia night. Forget that, I am married!
The truth is, as a person who enjoys the following three solo avocations--running, reading, writing, and not necessarily in that order--I have hardly graduated from my quiet days of hiding behind my parents, specifically my mother to conceal my hideous shyness. Look again at those three activities, three of my favorite things to do, and all what you might consider solitary pursuits. Sure, I enjoy reading to people (one of the perks of being an elementary school teacher and father of young daughters) but I rarely share my writing with anyone, and I almost never run with people. In college I ran with people from time to time and, seemingly through no fault of my own, those people would get hurt. Psychoanalyze that for what it is worth. Maybe I am just a selfish person who enjoys three solitary activities and I vindictively ran those people off, causing their injuries so I could return to running alone.
Hardly. It isn't that I don't enjoy being around people, I just like things that are also challenging, and those three things fulfill that need.
And then came this new challenge: my first whole summer "off" since I became a classroom teacher a decade ago. I twist in the evil wind that blows around summer and teachers. I will not be cast in the light of those old mug-cupping mavens who reveled in posters proclaiming, "The three best things about my job are June, July, and August." That garbage makes me insane.
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So, how does one such as myself find himself "off" this summer, when I seem like the kind of person who likes to be busy? My wife (Laura) returned to full-time work in April, a sudden change in our lives and an abrupt end of what had probably been my favorite job/working part of my year. I have worked at zoos in different parts of the country (at least) during the summer for the past eighteen years, or, since I was a Junior in college and I spied a troop of kids tromping about Roger Williams Park Zoo in the summer of 1993 as I slung frozen lemonade. I inquired about that job, and the rest is a long a strange tale of country-wide travel, meeting my wife at a zoo, collecting over 100 zoos visited, having two daughters, and becoming a classroom teacher along the way.
That sums it up, but it's only the beginning. Because, this summer I would not be able to work full-time at the zoo and, therefore, would be the primary caregiver for our two daughters, now aged five and eight. That was great news, as I would get to spend a lot more time with them than I do during the school year; and terrible news because I would not be able to work at the zoo. When I am not active (and actively working) I usually get into trouble: be it bad habits (laziness, reading constantly and ignoring other responsibilities), bad eating (well, who doesn't like candy at 9 AM on a Tuesday?), or just general sluggishness.
The one thing I had going for me is that our girls have been doing theme weeks each summer for the past several years. My part of that usually consisted of visiting the library to get books around each theme, helping the girls read the books, mopping up the week with a field trip or two, and enjoying what part I played in it, however small it might be. To have all of this fall to me this year or, rather, the bulk of this shift to me, as Laura and I traded places, would be a challenge.
This is the story of that challenge....
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