I think I need a break from being inside my head. I may in fact be the world’s biggest dork. Yesterday I sent an email to our AmeriCorps volunteer apologizing for my dorkdom. When a student overheard her telling me she loves my dorkiness (but not understanding the preceding context) the student came to my aid and defended me as not being a dork. It was sweet, but I assured that I was comfortable being a dork. Good thing, since the whole concept came up again today.
In a day where 85% of my time could be construed as dorky, the highlight came when I decided to ride my bike to my after school job at the high school. It would seem that such an event should be innocuous enough, yet my barely ten minute commute contained plenty of Glee-like moments. In fact, it’s amazing how much I feel like a high schooler whenever I’m on that campus.
My first challenge was riding with a large shoulder bag strapped to one side of my body. Normally I wear a backpack but since mine is currently being quarantined for bed bugs, I was left to my own devices. For a block and a half tops I felt oh so chic and European, casually pedalling with my bag slung over my shoulder all a-kilter. Until it fell. The rest of my ride involved swerving and muttering and almost falling off trying to balance the huge load on one side. Good thing I took the quiet neighborhood route instead of the main road.
I was running late and decided to leave my bike by the back, usually less traveled, door. There was no bike rack in sight, so I flagged a special ed class to assist me with ideas on where to secure my bike. Once I finally settled on locking up on a nearby stair rail, I plopped my bag down in the middle of the walkway and started negotiating the bike placement and lock procedure. I was firmly planted in mid-hoist (still wearing my helmet) when I heard first a faint creak and then saw a swarm of black t-shirt clad kids bearing PIONEER TRACK across their chests. There must have been 100 kids who barreled through right there between my bag (holding video camera, phone, and files), my bike, and me. And still there I was in all my glorified dorkdom–awkwardly holding bike and lock on the side of a hill, helmet still on.
Once secured and safely inside I started helping a student who I hadn’t seen in a while with a letter she had to write her college’s financial aid office. After I made a pretty bad typical pun about donuts, she quickly remarked that I am funny and such a dork. If she only knew! She was quick to point out that, “It’s ok. Everyone has their dorky moments. It’s what makes us unique.” I guess I should feel blessed to be fully endowed in the dork department.