Anyong, Lindsay here–albeit in a groggy state of mind after a two-hour nap, after getting home from Monday at school and saying “No, I will not take a nap. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong. OK I will just read my book in bed. Just for a few minutes.”
And two hours later, I awaken to dusk, the sun set behind nearby peaks.
All you teachers out there will know what I am talking about here when I say about halfway through my day–usually about post-lunch, when I am sitting down for the first time in hours with my own thoughts and not theirs about who gave who a sticker, who ripped the sticker, who spoke Korean, who was being whiny (a rule second only to not speaking Korean in my class because if I heard one more little person’s voice risw and fall in dire protest, I was going to throw a board marker)–when I eventually get my teacher’s legs.
You know. That feeling that you can’t walk another step. When you know that afternoon jog you were planning after school is just going to have to wait until you get rid of the TL. The feeling when you think you’re just going to need to lie down for a second. As soon as you get home. Or OK. After you eat a iced fruit bar because you can’t take the heat anymore and the sweat that has been dripping down your back because the air conditioning is broken again has now caused you to lose at least two pounds in water weight that you must gain back as soon as you can to prevent further problems which could lead to further weakness and a stronger case of TL.
Teacher’s Legs is a feeling akin to lethargia (remember that word?). It’s an exact moment when your body resigns for the day, despite the fact you have three classes left where you can still not sit down. Despite the fact you are actually standing, your body is sitting. Or is at home laying down on that hard but heavenly bed.
Sometimes, when TL sets in, my body dreams about my old jobs. Lifeguarding, when the job was to sit. Or reporting, when I spent large stretches in a comfy office chair in front of a computer. Yes, whatever happened to lifeguarding?
Because these teaching shoes, my friends, sure aren’t made for walking.