Going on 6 years now, I am a teacher without a class. A teacher teacher. It is a curious trade, this “educational consultant” business. I travel in circles with the businessmen of the pinstripe variety. Sure, I’ve earned the frequent flyer miles and the upgrades, but as soon as we leave the airport our paths divide. You won’t find a gentleman in a starched shirt holding a sign with my name on it, his long black car waiting to whisk me away to a luxurious penthouse hotel suite. I lug my bags onto the rent-a-heap-o-crap shuttle, and pick up the pile of lug nuts du jour. Mapquest, Verizon Navigator, and a prayer find me to the nearest hotel with a number in its name. Doing my best to ignore the mysterious hairs on the bathroom floor, I settle in for the night. Sometimes I’ll treat myself to a Frosty as a nightcap. My fellow upgrade-mates are probably knocking back some Black Label as I slurp the last of my treat.
In the morning, the pinstripe/cufflink crew gather around long polished tables and sit in big leather chairs. Underlings refill their coffee cups as they plan and deal, make the sale of a lifetime, or whatever they do in those big rooms. I meet up with the denim/embroidered jumper set (love the teacher uniform), and plan, deal and attempt to make the sale of a lifetime. Thank God I love the work. I love helping people to love what I loved most about my time in the classroom. At day’s end, exhausted, I navigate my way back to the airport, submit my dirty laundry and tired body to whatever whim the TSA has in mind and wait for the chance to will myself to sleep 25,000 feet into the air.
It beats making an honest living.
“You are what I never knew I always wanted”
12 years ago
2 comments:
Are you saying you're not the jet set; you're the old Chevrolet set?
No air clearage over the weekend. Just congestion and sinus headaches.
I think this is an especially appropriate post for Teacher Appreciation Week. You operate in a unique subculture. Luckily, not all of us wear the sweaters.
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