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As always, the first few days of school flew by. It wasn't just the busyness that presents itself in a new school year, but the fantastic energy. Kids don't have missed homework or bad grades yet, and everyone's book bags smell of fresh school supplies instead of stinky feet and rotted fruit.
It was a refreshing new year with an empty slate, and I loved it.
To the dismay of my parents, being part of the school system had been a part of my life goals since I was 16 years old. A retired judge, my father insisted that I at least obtain my Ph.D. if I were choosing to walk down such a professionally un-lucrative path.
He reasoned that I needed to make sure I would have the option for advancement, but in my 20 something mind, it was snobbery. For years I blamed him for making me feel guilty about my career.
The financial crash of 2008 put his advice into perspective. That is when I knew that his counsel was not an insult to the profession, but a desire to make assurances for my future family.
After the crash, my father who had diligently saved and worked for early retirement was forced out of retirement when he lost 60% of his supplemental income from investments crashing.
Even though by middle-class standards my mother and he could have still had a comfortable retirement, he became obsessed with guaranteeing my mother the lifestyle she was accustomed to. Thus, he withdrew his remaining investments and purchased an income-for-life annuity that would ensure that he and his spouse could rely on a regular stipend to supplement his state pension.
Since the funds he had available for down payment only covered half of the required funds to guarantee the stipend, my father went back to work as a defender for another eight years until he had paid the annuity requirement in full.
Unfortunately, the stress from being a defense attorney took its toll on my ordinarily easy-going father and led to his heart attack last year. Luckily, the doctors seemed hopeful that as long as he stayed in retirement, he'd have many years left to annoy my mother and play golf.
Inspired by his dedication to my mother's financial security, I started applying for our county's principal training program in 2008. This opportunity would increase my income cap by 50 thousand dollars, which allow me to purchase an annuity for retirement.
Since my Ph.D. had given me the option to travel the county overseeing and teaching academically gifted students of all ages, I was able to complete my administrative training courses in less than a year. Shortly after, I received a promotion and became a Vice Principal at Danville Middle School. Even though I probably gained my position because everyone approached to fill it declined out of fear for the dreaded age group. Many of my colleagues warned me that it could break my career, but instead, I found the position extremely rewarding.
Yes, middle schoolers were amongst the more unpredictable of students, but they were also the most open to guidance. Once they reach high school, they become surly and hormonal, but if you show a pre-teen that you care, they'll be less likely to cause problems.
To date, I am still the only vice principal to make it at Danville Middle School past six years. My seven-year record tenure at Danville Middle School is also how I became the youngest principal in the district at 37 years old.
By the time the calendar read Thursday, I was a ball of positivity. Hopefully, Kelly wasn't turned off by my can-do attitude that usually stayed inflated till the mid-quarter grading period.
I would just have to remember to dial down my excitement, which had grown considerably due to the knowledge of her existence in Danville.
It should seem crazy to want a long-term relationship with someone that I had just met, especially after 15 years of being married to someone who turned out to be a stranger, but everything came so easily with Kelly.
The little blips of her personality that she had shared with me, and of course her fantastic performance in New York, only added to my conviction that I didn't need to look anywhere else at this time.
After Monday's text-a-thon I had hoped that we would continue communicating regularly throughout the week, but other than coordinating our play-date for later this afternoon, she'd been silent.
Hoping that her silence was not because I had over-stepped some invisible line, I endeavored to remain positive.
But not too positive... because then she might run in fear.