How to End a Summer Vacation.

My summer began the way all things begin: from the end of something else.

Ironically, it did not start on the close of the school year, the evaporation of spring, or the heretofore description of my deteriorating health as it related to running. No, my summer commenced only after I abandoned a fruitless and impulsive meandering through non-teaching careers.

Downtime, as I learned last winter, doesn't always suit me well. Time to think begets time to entertain, which spawns the kind of frivolity that leads to trouble. So, conversations had, letters submitted, and resume polished, I did what any other clueless and ambitious job seeker does, and cast a wide net.

Learning, though, is a difficult concept to pinpoint. The results of my halfhearted seeking merely revealed my own lack of exposure, lack of qualification, and lack of knowledge. In terms of exposure, my offerings reflected the world of 2006 or 2007, a drastically different landscape than we now find ourselves traversing.  Qualifications, it seems mean everything, and the bullsh*t I've been guilty of imparting to prospective high school graduates for the last three years (your resumes are a place to spin the diction of "babysitting" into "child care professional") has no practical application. Turns out, no one wants to help a teacher build a bridge from one profession to another. This absence of measurable transition ostensibly rules out anything beyond dog-eat-dog cutthroatism. And while knowledge could very well exist in extension of qualifications, in my summer jaunt it seems more associated with naivete. Just surveying companies and organizations in fields where I professed some interest illuminated how incredibly ill-equipped I am at navigating in alternative employment universes. I was like a widower looking for a date, and feel as though life had somehow passed me by.

Awareness of my temporary malaise finally culminated in the realization of my own privilege. My job allots time off, which produces within me an inclination for reflection, which affords me the opportunity to make a whole lot of something out nothing. Once I again became comfortable with the fact that my rushed attempt to seek greener pastures was in fact a byproduct of the fact that I inhabit a greener pasture, I started to enjoy the benefits of my life.

I read. I ran. I harvested vegetables from the garden. I prepared adventurous meals--failing at a few--and baked a variety of kitchen staples. I wrote, both creatively, analytically, and educationally. I explored new activities. I reintegrated the bicycle, spent time in a pool, and allowed myself to let go of many a neuroses I'd built up over long periods of time.

I returned to coaching, which reminded me how much I enjoy being around (though not necessarily grading, raising, or befriending) teenagers. I planned for the school year, smiling at ideas and leisurely paces and opportunities to work both alone and in collaboration.

And yesterday, I spent my final day of summer vacation on my own terms. I took ownership of a situation and reveled in the idea that I had shown my own good fortune its proper respect. I arose early for fourteen miles around Folsom's Lake Natoma. I enjoyed fresh fruit, piping local coffee, and a house made honey bran muffin at Karen's Bakery. I was able to visit with my mother, meander through the grocery aisles, soak in a tub, complete a crossword puzzle, and construct a raw lunch.

I reorganized a curriculum for the upcoming school year while eating frozen yogurt.

I gave a friend a ride home from the airport, prepared dinner for my wife and me, and edited a newsletter for the racing team. I read a portion of Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh, and drifted to sleep just after dark.

Summer was not about giving up on ambition or relenting on the pursuit of a dream. It was about realizing that I live an enviable life that is the result of many wise choices I've made through the years. It was about finding ambition and exploiting the dream.