Fridays Nights, Working Late and Toilet Paper

A few weeks ago, I was working late on a Friday night.  I find lesson planning is more efficient when I can work on a series of lessons for a few hours at a time without distractions, so in that way, I love working late.

But on this day, Scarlett cried as she said goodbye to me and it was Friday, so things felt a little upside down.  I got a ton of work done but, of course, its never enough and as the minutes ticked closer to the pre-arranged time that my friend was supposed to pick me up I became more and more frustrated.  Why am I not home with my family?  Why can't I get things done faster?  Why, almost half way through my career, do I still have so much to figure out?

When my work time was up, I shut down the computer, stood up and cursed myself for not having stopped sooner to leave time for a bathroom break.  Now I'm going to be late, I thought.  I threw my stuff together, and having left now room to spare, realized that I was going to have to use the student washroom across from my office instead of the staff room.  The filthy room undoubtedly would be covered in graffiti about all the things I don't want to know about their lives.

I rushed into the dingy unknown with a sigh of frustration.

Except it wasn't dingy at all.  I was bright white with sparkling faucets and fully stocked soap dispensers.  There were no crude messages scrawled to loopy teenage script.  As I went to grab some toilet paper, I found the only little piece of graffiti in the whole place scratched into the plastic toilet paper holder:

Remember to breathe.


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