Dear Fried Friday Teacher,
There was this catchy, little sitcom jingle of my childhood.
"It's Friday night, and the mood is right. Gonna have some fun. Show you how it's done. TGIF."
You're singing it now, aren't you?
In 1991, I was 11 years old, and there was nothing that primed my joy more than a Little Caesar's pizza, a bag of barbeque Ripplin's, and a full lineup of Friday night shows.
If you were born in the eighties, or had a child in the eighties, you don't need a vintage TV guide to recall the lineup. It's still tattooed in your memory like a bad, seventh grade perm.
Perfect Strangers- Balki was so annoying. Step by Step, Family Matters, and everyone's personal favorite, Full House.
Two words. Uncle Jesse.
He's still a very attractive man.
Another two words. Have Mercy.
This year it's not a humorous, trite tag line though.
It's a plea of desperation, like something a person might yell while jumping out of an airplane without a parachute, which, if we are being honest, is what every single day feels like.
So, I'll say it again. This time more as a prayer.
"Lord, have mercy on the weary teacher. I know you see her tired feet. They look a lot like yours when you knelt to wash the feet of others. She's washed a lot of feet this week. When you're filling up the water basin, don't forget about her sore toes with the chipped pedicure.
Her legs have walked a thousand miles down rows and rows. Is this the harvest you spoke of? All week she has whispered, and sometimes shouted, the good news- the hope of Glory.
In her belly, there is a hunger for change. I know you've heard the rumbling.
In her heart, there is a love that springs from a well that never runs dry.
In her smile, there is a comfort for every kid who can't find a reason of his own to smile.
In her mind, there is the wisdom to know it's your strength that suspends her each day.
Thank you for your mercy, for showing us how it's done, and more specifically, thank you for Fridays."
Where would we be without them?
-CDB