Around 2 pm yesterday I stopped grinning so much; not altogether, mind you, but not exclusively anymore because just around that time things began to really hurt. My left arm, which is now black and blue, isn't telling me how much it enjoyed being so down to earth yesterday. Neither is the skin on my legs which feels peeled by the sand it had a close encounter with; peeled the way one would peel a carrot! Something in my sternum isn't singing a happy tune either.

When I was being interviewed by the news crew in the beach parking lot yesterday, I was thinking about how much I really didn't want to talk about what had just happened. I was, honestly, thinking I wanted to talk about something WAY more important with my 45 seconds of fame. I was thinking that I wanted to talk about being a teacher.

Being a teacher has been on my mind a lot. Being a teacher, after all, allowed all these beach walks to begin with. And being a teacher brings them to a screeching halt. And, standing in that parking lot yesterday, trying to smile and be cordial to the poor soul who had the job of waiting around for something dramatic to happen so she could get some footage, I was thinking about how much I needed to get going so I could go to school and set up my classroom.

So, after I said goodbye to her and her microphone and him and his camera, I drove home, washed the copious sand off of my self, described the morning's events to my nuclear unit, and took off for school. During the hour and 30 minute drive into the South Bronx where I teach, my driving instructor left a message on my cell phone. He had already seen me on the news. Great. Tell me again why I agreed to speak to camera guy and microphone gal? Oh yes, I actually felt sorry for them because they had nothing to do. They were hanging around as I headed for the beach and they were packing up as I headed for my car and in between nothing much had happened. They kind of rushed me when the realized something sort of had happened, after all!

My driving instructor said something rather interesting in the message he left me: "You are one brave lady to drive over that bridge on a day like today! " Huh? The wind hadn't even kicked up yet...what was he talking about? And besides, he thought the brave thing I did yesterday was drive?! ? I have news for you, buddy (I thought to myself), the brave thing I did was crawl out.

If I had microphone gal's ear today, I would probably have something much more interesting to say than how a wave felled me like a tree. I was thinking about bravery and drama when I arrived to work at a school that is in no way ready for students yet. We received notices in the mail that we will have three hours to set up our rooms on Tuesday for when students arrive Wednesday. When I pulled onto the block where the entrance to the school is, I took the last free parking space. As I walked towards the entrance, I could identify the owner of each car I passed. THIS is what I wanted to talk to that reporter about--- that on one of the last days of their vacation, enough teachers came in to set up their classrooms to fill a city block because they KNOW that three hours is not enough to prepare for the the arrival of students on Wednesday, not to mention the year ahead. And by the way, I took the summer off. Most teachers do not. Most of those cars were parked somewhere on that block all summer long.

So, as I said, around 2 pm the grin was wearing thin, and part of that was pain, but part of that was remembering that sometimes being a teacher is like clawing and crawling your way out of wet moving sand. Because there's no real way to be ready for what begins on Wednesday.

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This September I begin my 26th year teaching in the South Bronx at the same school where I began teaching straight out of college. I have been a teacher of severely multiply handicapped and mentally retarded , of deaf- blind, and now of emotionally disturbed/ learning disabled 15-21 year olds, and of seemingly every classification in-between. I LOVE MY JOB, or I would not be doing it.

I had a quiet moment or two today and I began to think, as I always do at this time of year, of the students I have lost. Over the next little while some of these posts will be about those students, other teachers and school personnel who impacted them and/or myself. Partly I will do this because I miss them , and reminding myself of who they were or what was left behind in their absence makes me better prepared to do my job everyday. Partly I will do this because you will never, ever hear their stories or mine as their teacher on the midday news. I can assure you their stories are full of both bravery and drama.