Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure--measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife

In--Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

--"Seasons of Love" from the musical RENT, by Jonathon Larson

I dreamt last night that I was chatting with a co-teacher, one who was quite a good buddy to me. I always enjoyed our chats because we have the same sense of humor and the same outlook on teaching. The dream itself wasn't very memorable, but I woke up feeling sad. Not just because I won't have these chats anymore with this particular person, but because I won't go out to cheesy Chelmsford on Friday nights with the girls, or sit in Kathy's living room in the evenings watching Viggo Mortensen or Colin Firth movies, discussing Harry Potter or the latest gossip from school. I miss these things, even though I know that I will find (and I am finding) new things to look forward to here.

I lay there in bed this morning, thinking about what I miss and what I don't (the thought of putting another group of kids through music GCSEs is enough to make me want to, as Heather would say, eat nails). And it reminded me of an anniversary:

One year ago tomorrow, 23 August 2004, I boarded a 747 at San Francisco International and started this whole wild and absolutely true adventure.

One year ago this very minute, I was awake in my bed--nervous, excited, terrified, sad, apprehensive, happy--a bundle of emotions and questions. I was running through my last-minute packing list: "Don't forget your glasses, toothbrush, contact solution, watch, shampoo..." I was crying and trying to cuddle an agitated Millie, who did not like the suitcases. I was thrilled to be going back to England, terrified that it might be a horrible experience, but I knew, really knew, that no matter what happened, this was the right path for me.

How do you measure a year?

In the little things, I suppose, just as the song says. The kids who started to listen, the 4 students who were able to submit GCSE coursework. The walks along the Crouch, the train rides to London. The friends made and the adventures I had. The obstacles I knocked down, the people who didn't want me to leave.

So many little moments that stand out, like strutting across a catwalk in ridiculous sunglasses to the Beach Boys' "California Girls," while my co-teacher Stuart played desperate paparazzi. Or belting out "All I Want for Christmas is You," and knocking 'em all off their feet in the process. How about laughing along with a group of wily 13-year-olds when I accidentally taped a piece of paper to my rear end? The time I finally nailed that little weasel Mark, catching him turning on my stereo and cranking up the volume.

Riding along with Louisa, with her repeatedly apologizing for the mess in her car, and asking, "Are you sure this looks allright?" "YES!!! Louisa, you look fantastic!!" Pulling an English construction worker with arm muscles to die for (even if I wasn't all that attracted to the rest of him). Dressed up as Bridget Jones, to boot!

Flying to Ireland with Jo and Sandra, drinking real Irish Guiness and seeing for myself why they call it the Emerald Isle. Taking the Chunnel to Paris and seeing the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, and finally, the D-Day beaches. Having afternoon tea--little sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, and a nice, hot pot of tea--in countless tea places on countless day trips.

And the most important moments of all...just getting on the airplane. And landing in London, thinking to myself, "By God, Meg, you really did it."

I know that I will continue to have adventures and good times, to make more memories. I'm ready for new adventures. But today, I'm missing England.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. I lived each and every one of them to the fullest.