The School Year Begins with a Crash of the Hard Drive
on which my entire life’s work
as a teacher was “saved.”
My technology guy, bless him,
was able to retrieve nearly
every last god-forsaken item–
except any kind of organizational
feature previously attached.
So all perhaps one thousand
assorted folders, documents, presentations,
audio files, images, film clips,
spreadsheets, and graphics
are identified now only by random
numbers in no particular order
and that makes me feel suddenly
like my teaching life is now
identified only by random
numbers in no particular order
and I don’t like it.
I could be planning, inventing,
decorating, creating new stuff
in this first week of work
before the kids arrive, but
instead, my technology guy
and I will be sifting through
all these thousands of files and naming them
and putting them back into folders
where once again they might be
useful, and where once again,
my life’s work as a teacher,
in ones and zeros, might be
protected and saved
at least until I can retire, please.
Then perhaps, the hard drive
can burn, burn, baby, burn,
because my legacy will be
carried by those who walk out my door
and not what sits, in ones and zeros,
in a box on my desk.
michael jarmer 
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Save creating folders until Columbus Day weekend and meanwhile reinvent your teaching (as you listed above). Plus, what a great opportunity to delete all those files you haven’t used in ten years. Of course, easy for me to say, since it didn’t happen to me. I’d probably ask for a sabbatical.
I think I’ll ask for a sabbatical.
DO IT! It’s refreshing! And in my district, part of our contract, but nobody asks. Duh-uhhh!
I’m almost 100% percent certain it has not been a part of our contract for many many years, if it ever was. The best we’ve got is a leave without pay. We can accrue sick leave–and some people take boat loads of it–but I don’t think that’s ethical.