Therapy Tarantula
I need some tarantula time
The principal of the school where I work most of the time has a therapy dog. She is a beautiful, beautiful golden retriever, and half the size of the golden retriever I lived with on a Christmas tree farm. I’d been wondering where she was but I was afraid to ask… I try not to trouble him or anyone else with unnecessary questions, and if something had happened to her I’d not want to bring it up.
But when I walked by his office, which actually houses half or more of the leadership team in one office, this morning before eight, there she was. She looked so sleepy under his desk.
“She’s back!” I exclaimed. “I was wondering where she was!”
He says she comes in two days a week and that she had been keeping a low profile. She looked like she was wanting a nap, which frankly I was too. But I don’t get paid to cuddle the principal’s dog and she has a job to do too, so apparently we both went about our own set of duties.
She’s small for a golden. He confirmed that she’s half the size of Sunny. Tiny one, he could probably pick her up and carry her. Maybe 40 pounds. Darker red than Sunny, like a touch of Irish setter in there. Goldens have that sometimes though. Sunny looked a bit like a golden lab.
I love therapy dogs, but Charlotte is my Therapy Tarantula. She is just the embodiment of calm. As she watches the kids from the side of her terrarium, she has everything I want. She gets to live at the school I love so much I hate to leave it. She gets her meals regularly (a few crickets every two weeks for her, I prefer different fare but to each their own) and she never has to worry about her place to stay. I have to make the rent, work, figure out how to pay the bills, and worry about lots of things. She has a regular job. I don’t know when I’ll see her next most of the time.
It turns out that tarantulas are not hiring, so I do not think that my next job will be as a school tarantula. But I do love seeing her.
One of the full time teachers today told me that she said in a meeting, “We have only one sub who can handle these kids and actually leaves us notes.” I keep being surprised that the others don’t even do their jobs by leaving proper notes.
One of my favorite APs said he was so happy that he got to see me many times today. He’s been like a guardian angel to me… if it weren’t for him I might not have been brave enough to apply. I was running up and down stairs so much, meanwhile the principal, who also seems to be everywhere all the time, was constantly running up and down similar stairs and we kept running into each other. As a trained stage manager and director, I am beginning to feel like this has the complicated stage directions of a ballet written and produced by Oscar Wilde. Like Coppelia mixed with Lady Windermere’s Fan.
All of this would be funny if it were happening to someone else.
The kids are so sweet… much of the time! I’m part of the scenery now. It’s so nice how they are happy to see me even now that I’m doing some grading and such. Everyone can see how much I care about them.
“Off to see the little ones, who are taller than I am,” I say to the Dean when I head to the middle school floor. Then when I’m on the senior floor I say, “Hello, almost grown folks!”
It’s hard to feel like I finally know what I want, and not know what is going to happen.
But we never really do know what is going to happen, even when we think we do.
I never would have seen the twists and turns in my life that even made it possible for me to be a teacher.
So I can’t see the next twist.
As I read the biography of Justice Brandeis that the rabbi I was studying with suggested I read, and that my old friend kindly sent me, I remind myself that we never know what twists and turns will bring us to the next step.
I will try to trust in God. The G-d of Israel, the G-d of the Whirlwind of Job. The God of Cats and Tarantulas.
The God of Stickers who has blessed me with the ability to bring a bit of joy into these children’s world.
And maybe to some of their teachers and administrators too.
Hey, at least I show up.
Sunny dog, may she rest in peaceful grasses. She lived to be almost 18, on 44 acres of Christmas trees her whole life. Bless you, sweet cousin and hiking partner. Someday we will meet again at the algae covered pond in heaven.