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It is 6:30 a.m. Saturday. I am standing on the platform at Secaucus Junction, clutching the largest version of Pumpkin Spice Latte available, and waiting for my train into Manhattan.
It is windy. And cold. And very early in the morning.
Did I mention it was Saturday?
There are three people on the platform, including me. One of us is in a very bad mood. That would be the gentleman standing next to me, who is growling into his cell phone about how very mad he is that he is standing on a platform and waiting for a train into Manhattan. He would rather be, he lets everyone (including the person on the other end of the phone) know, a hundred other places than this particular one.
- Not me.
I am headed to the Saturday Reunion at Teacher’s College, where I will be cheerily welcomed with balloons:
followed by two inspirational keynotes in this magnificent space (Riverside Cathedral!):
and non-stop, back-to-back, hard to choose from workshops here:
Conversation over, the gentleman next to me begins pacing the platform. Back and forth he goes. Pacing, muttering pacing. I sip my coffee and wait, adjusting my book bag, wondering whether it was necessary to bring both the ipad & the laptop, three books, two notebooks, and two bottles of water. I have packed, I am beginning to suspect, too much.
The gentleman stops near me, and takes a long look at my heavy bag. He seems to be reading the above logo very intently. Then he says, “You a teacher?”
“Yes,” I reply carefully, I am, after all in New Jersey. Jersey isn’t always very nice to its public school teachers.
“Lady, did you know it’s Saturday?” he asks.
Before I can muster a response, the train arrives. I am off. Happily so…even if it is a Saturday.