I really don't know where time goes. Maybe it's like an hourglass, or one of the medieval images of a flat earth with the oceans pouring over the edges. It does seem to go more quickly as my age increases. And, between naps, I have been very busy!
Teaching on call has been an up and down road over the years. Sometimes the road was all uphill and I got very little work. Now that I am nearer the end of the career road, our school district seems to have a shortage of teachers on call, and I can work as much as I want, and sometimes more than I would like (when this happens, I definitely need a nap after school). In the past few months, unless I have booked off days, I've had 2, 3, 4 and even 5 days a week. My most recent adventure was 5 days with grade 3s at the school my kids used to attend. It was good to be with the same class for several days, getting to know all their names and more about their personalities and learning styles. Coming up with an art project for Friday afternoon was fun as well.
I did take a week off for a personal adventure the first week of March, combining a doctor's appointment in Vancouver with some time away from home. I visited my son in Terrace and enjoyed seeing how he has found his place in the workplace, church, and community. Two days later, I was at my daughter's home, experiencing student life with her and her husband. (Strangely, I have also become income tax adviser to my kids). The last two days were with one of my long-standing friends in Vancouver. I have learned much from her, navigating SkyTrain, buses, and taxis, as well as occupying her futon and checking out her favorite restaurants.
I was supposed to leave for home on Thursday at noon, and arrived at the airport in plenty of time, only to find that all of the self-check-in terminals in the airport were not working. Line-ups to check in, even without baggage, became exponentially long ... and as I neared the front of the line, the agents were calling out "12 o'clock? 12 o'clock?" When I got to an agent, she told me that check-in was closed for my flight. I'm not sure what kind of look my face produced (I try not to say the first thing that comes out of my mouth), but the last few of us did get through that checkpoint, security, and scooted down to our gate to wait. And wait. And wait. Bad weather. When they finally got word that they could fly, we had to wait for the crew to arrive (I was taking no chances, as it was already much later ... so I grabbed some lunch from Tim Horton's). Once the crew was there, the weather had gone from fair to bad to worse, and we all got e-mails saying our flight was cancelled, just as it was announced over the PA system. Passengers looked at each other with disbelief (especially those of us who had just made it through check-in by the skin of our teeth), and wandered off to make arrangements for the rest of the day and night. Our flight was scheduled to depart at 7 am Friday morning.
Off on an unexpected adventure ... rode the SkyTrain back into Vancouver, phoned transit to find out where to connect with the appropriate bus, wandered the opposite direction for several blocks uphill dragging my wheeled carry-on bag ... and finally asked a bus driver at one of the stops where the correct intersection was. (Well, transit had said "go up to Hastings and something else" -- I forget now what the other street was -- I just assumed that "up" and "uphill" meant the same thing.) I did find the street where I had caught the bus on previous trips, but there was construction there, so I know that couldn't have been where they were sending me. Hopped on the bus, rode out to the Stanley Park loop, and occupied time in the volunteer office until my friend was done for the day. We had just been commenting that morning how our visits are always too short, so it was nice to have another evening together.
What wasn't as nice was leaving at 5:30 am to get to the airport ... going through the line because I had no check-in number for the nice terminals that were now working, and getting to the agents who were calling out 7:00! 7:00! and being told yet again that they thought the flight was now closed. I'm sure the atmosphere inside the airport must have chilled a few degrees or perhaps heated up, as those of us who had been rescheduled eyed the agents with looks that said "fix this." Once again, we trotted briskly down to security and off to our gate, where there was no waiting at all ... we lifted off, and were back in the Okanagan in no time flat. Adventure over ... and back to reality.
So my carefree week was followed by the busy week with the grade 3 class, and then "hurray! Spring break!" I'm still trying to figure out where my break is, as I've been de-cluttering at home, fitting in a few hours of work at New Hope, teaching Sunday School for Palm Sunday and Easter, and doing more preparation for the school program at O'Keefe Ranch. I discovered how expensive it is to mail 26 envelopes of information to that many schools (almost $50!), and vowed that next year, I will have everything on computer and able to be sent by e-mail. I am not the most tech-savvy person of my generation (as my children will attest), but I am dragging the school program into the 21st Century (at least, in terms of scheduling), with a Gmail address and a Google calendar so that I can schedule and check dates and communicate with teachers wherever I am. It's so much easier than trying to catch other teachers on their recess and lunch breaks, between supervision and meetings, when I am in schools myself, following the same crazy schedule. If only all schools had breaks at the same hour of the day ... well, there would be less telephone tag. And I really don't like getting "work" phone calls at the end of the day when I get home.
I am even more excited about the school program and summer day-camps at the Ranch as the time draws nearer. I love being in a place where the work is fun, and where I can wear a costume, tell stories, and go behind the ropes in the displays. I like having a nametag that says "Historic O'Keefe Ranch" and "Karen Bouchard" underneath it. "My" ranch is, for me, the very best place to work ... where the best part is doing the job (and not merely getting the paycheck).
And just in case you were left wondering, my doctor in Vancouver was pleased with my health and just advised that I also see a local respirologist about my pulmonary fibrosis annually as well.
That's it for this month's episode of "life in the fast lane!"
