Rockstar by morning

I’ve almost made it. The finish line is in sight, and my engine is rearing to go. Only ONE more day of school, and then the stay-at-home-momness begins.

Although nothing sounds more appealing right now than spending every waking moment with this little face (and I DO MEAN EVERY waking moment, considering ‘nap’ is not a word she is choosing to understand), there are several things I’m truly going to miss once the day job is done.

Other than the smiling teenage faces, fresh pot of coffee made by someone else, and enticing literary discussions I have everyday with a class full of students who are excited about reading book talks, one thing I will miss the most is my ride to school.

I confess. I have a dirty little secret. Once I drop the girls off at “school”, as the Libster likes to call it, I spend the next thirty minutes in a state of total bliss.

I’ve mentioned before that I love music. However, what I meant to say is I ‘absolutely freaking adore cannot possibly live without would shave my head before going musicless’ love music. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. My i-pod contains 436 days worth of music. Yes, I'm completely serious.  Me and music- we’re pretty much BFF 365. So, my morning commute is spent with the radio blaring and one of my 2567 cds (all of which spend their days living in every nook and cranny in my car) blasting from my speakers. I like my music loud. I can’t help it. Something about music played loudly just makes it sound better. It’s my escape. It’s my transition from mommy mode to teacher mode. It’s my “today is gonna be a great day, and you’re off to a great start” breakfast.

And I’m not scared to admit it. I flaunt it shamelessly.

I sing loudly badly to myself, head bobbing included on most days.

I perform what I like to refer to as seat belt dancing like I’m getting paid for it.

I spend my entire way to work singing and changing songs as the mood strikes, which some mornings, I confess, can be labeled as nothing more than musical ADD until I find the exact tune I’m craving.

And to confess even further: in the mornings, I usually crave things that remind me of high school and that I won’t let me daughter listen to for fear of her singing them on the playground. This morning it was Brass Monkey. Yesterday it was The Black Eyed Peas. And at least once a week, it’s something by Pink. I can’t help it. Music is my morning drug of choice.

And last week, I got busted. Normally I do a very good job of returning back to reality and assuming my role as a responsible adult as I pull into the parking lot. However, on that particular day I seem to have forgotten that my car isn’t sound-proof or see proof. People can actually see me strutting my stuff to my morning’s drug of choice. And I am supposed to be the responsible teacher-like kid, but some days it just ain’t happen’ folks.

I was reminded of this when a fellow teacher said, “McCall, I don’t know what you listen to in the mornings, but it must be good because you sure are rocking in your car.” Yeah, that’s me. Teacher by day; rockstar by morning.

But it makes me happy. It puts me in a good mood. And the way I see it is, if all it takes for me to de-stress and prepare myself to mold the youth of America for the next eight hours is some good, loud music, what’s wrong with that? In fact, I’d even go as far as to say I’m one blessed little girl grown, responsible adult. I mean, we can't all wake up feeling like this everyday without a little help.......

can we?