Adulthood is in full swing for me, like the onslaught of a new season morphing old ways into new routines and creations. I’ve been trying to process the fact that I am a teacher. I’ve said it for months as I documented my student teaching experience, but it still has not settled into a tangible reality quite yet.

I think the issue for me – the barricade keeping me from seeing my own future – is the fact that I haven’t walked into my classroom yet. My classroom. Every time I say those two little words I smile because this is a dream becoming a reality. However, I haven’t sat at my desk chair or let my wrists rest on the keyboard as my fingers clack away to the sound of my heart beating in excitement.

Another issue for me is that I am ready to dive into ancient and medieval texts; I’m ready to plan units and activities and thought-provoking discussions because this is what I’m hardwired to do. But, I have to wait three months before I can begin what I hope will be a fruitful and rewarding career.

Just last night, I sat and compiled a list of about 30 questions pertaining to the job that starts as the leaves are beginning to change. I am eager to plan curriculum. During undergrad as I sat in a seminar, my peers and I were asked to share what excites us most about teaching. At that point, I had minimal experience at the helm of the ship, but I knew what gave me the drive to make English fun: planning.

I love browsing the depths of Pinterest and reading teachers’ blog posts because they provide insight and spark the creative train that has led me to this point in the beginning of my career. Based on what knowledge I already have of my position, I already know that this next year is going to be my most exciting yet.

But, let us deviate from the professional realm, and dive into my more sarcastic and personal realm for the tail end of this exciting excerpt. I. Am. Happy … for the first time in a long time. It’s an oddity for me to smile and laugh and look forward to talking on the phone. If you know me, you know I typically hate plastering the phone to my ear to talk on and on with another human. Now, I enthusiastically press the green phone in anticipation of hearing just one voice.

I never thought I’d be able to talk to a person all day, every day. I used to poke fun at my younger siblings for wanting that constant connection. Now, I look like the hypocrite, but there is just something validating – there goes that theme again – about being able to laugh at yourself with another human, about being vulnerable with another human.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve put this mystery man through quite a lot in the short time that I’ve gotten to know him, and I haven’t scared him away just yet. That to me means everything. It shows me that he’s different than all the other boys – because their immaturity and lack of drive did not make them the men they claimed to be – I’ve encountered over the past couple years. A phrase I’ve been throwing around lately is a genuine person with a beautiful soul.

As a literature major, I always assumed that I had hardened to the effects of Victorian love stories and poems laced with romanticism because I never truly felt the impact of the words that portrayed the sorrow of its characters. But the romantic in me has unleashed itself into the world, and I hope she sticks around for at least a little while.

Before I turn the stomachs of you avid readers with my happiness, I’ll segway into a work story from just last night. You see I had to work an overnight, and I truly love that optimal time of the evening when I can crawl into my bed with a good book, light a candle, and let my mind rest after a long day of overthinking, However, instead I had to slurp some espresso, two to be exact, in order to power my way through eight hours of sizing clearance racks.

Because I had made the calculated decision to consume double the amount of coffee that late in the evening, I risked both my sanity and some much-needed sleep. When I excited the building exactly 15 minutes later than I had assumed at almost 5 a.m., I was ready to take off my eyebrows, change into an over-sized sweatshirt, and sleep until the mid-afternoon sun sliced through my window.

Boy, was I wrong in assuming I’d sleep for a solid 5 hours … Instead, I woke up with piercing pain due to the amount of coffee fighting its way out of my bladder. And then, wouldn’t you know, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I’m running on about an hour and a half of sleep. I’m going to crash hard, probably in the middle of a date because I’m an actual grandma, but no matter.

All I can continue to do is take one day at a time, and I plan on sipping on my coffee as I watch my wonderful life unfold around me. Stay tuned …