Perfect Attendance

Last year, for the first year time in 25 years of teaching, I made it all the way through the year without a sick day -- until I ended up in the hospital on the last day of class. We still aren't sure if it was appendicitis or not.

This year, I got a flu shot, washed my hands, ate healthful lunches, got reasonable sleep, took good care of myself, pushed through a cold and several migraines.  With just ten days of classes left, I haven't had to call in sick. Just ten days to go...

The end of a school year brings a flurry of activity:  dinners, awards presentations, tests, last minute grading, goodbyes, forms, packing boxes, cleaning, purging.  My to-do list has grown so long, and I've puzzled together a schedule to fit all the must-do's into the remaining days, the remaining hours.  Yes, it's a masterpiece.

Alas, I'm looking at it while I sit with my husband at the doctor's office while a substitute watches one of my classes take a test, two of my classes study for a test, and one of my classes sign copies of yearbooks to present on Friday. Yes, in the wee hours of the morning, I called in sick so that I could tote my sweet husband to the doctor and tend to him today.

Let me introduce my husband:  a man who cleans the bathroom and makes the bed and dumps ice trays and mows the lawn and grows peppers, a man who plays the congas or a ukulele or a harmonica to keep me company while I wash dinner dishes, a man who takes care of morning kid duties so that I can leave for school before the crack of dawn. He protects me after heavy weekends of research papers and yearbook deadlines. He buys me chocolate and Pepsi when I'm running on empty after a long, long week of classes. He listens to stories about classes and students. He makes me laugh on days I want to scream, and he holds me when I need to cry. He understands how important my work is.

That's why he deserves my sick day. That's why he deserves every bit of my attention today while tests pile up and school errands wait and emails fill my inbox. That's why he deserves to have me bring him medicine and drive him to the doctor and help him get dressed and hold him while he cries in pain.

That's why, when my seniors, whose last day is today, text me to say, "We missed you today on our last day," I can confidently reply this way: "My last lesson to you is that family must always come first. Always. They deserve you."

Maybe next year I'll finish with perfect attendance. Or maybe my family will need me again. And that's just fine, too.