Signing on the dotted line

Last week was contract time at my school. June is late to be signing contracts, and people were beginning to get nervous.

"What's that you're holding? A CONTRACT?" snapped one co-worker as I walked down the hallway a couple of weeks ago holding a report I was getting ready to photocopy.

When my principal called me into her office, I gave myself a little pep talk. "Heathen, when she tells you you're not getting a contract, take it like a woman. No crying. You can handle this." There was no reason to think I wouldn't get a contract; my performance review had been very positive. But I have PTSD from horrible work experiences, so anytime I hear the words, "Come in here, I'd like to have a word with you," my stomach drops.

Most people were not happy with their contracts. Their hours had not been increased, or they did not get as much of a pay raise as they were hoping. There's been a lot of griping the past few days. Me, I was thrilled.

"You can take it with you and think about it for a few days if you want," my principal told me. "No rush."

"I'm ready to sign," I replied without hesitation, grabbing the pen from her hand. "Just show me the dotted line."

And now, I'm ready for my FIRST carefree, fun summer off. It starts in 64 hours. If anyone's looking for me after that, I'll probably be at the beach.