Tomorrow marks the start of week three of Summer Vacation, and I finally feel like I've found my stride. After a rather harried nine months of teaching four preps, selling our house, and moving into a new house, I spent the first few days of summer vacation not knowing what to do with myself. No papers to grade, no lessons to plan, and our home improvement projects put on hold until Painter John could squeeze us in to his busy schedule, I felt a bit "lazy" reading for pleasure, catching up with old friends, and making a dent in our summer bucket list. Have no fear, I am adaptable and have shifted gears into summer mode--eight full weeks of nothing but Saturdays is not the reason why I became a teacher, but it's one awesome perk.
As we prepped to head out on our first of three mini-vacations this past holiday weekend, I reached in to the pocket of my wall calendar and pulled out the ominous paper that appeared in my mail a few weeks earlier from the Montgomery County Courthouse with that filthy five letter word written in all caps set against a red background--JUROR. Bloody hell, I have Jury Duty. My initial instinct was to vent my "outrage" at being selected for jury duty on Facebook, but I refrained. Whining about jury duty is so cliche. It's been a few years since I've turned 18, and this is the first time I've been called on to serve--not too shabby. It's summer, so I can't complain about the inconvenience of missing work or finding child care for my children. And when I received the summons, I immediately recalled my friends and neighbor who were all called to "serve" and never had to report. On Thursday after 4pm, I pulled out my laptop, logged on to the website, typed in my Juror ID Number and Electronic Signature and in the spirit of a contestant on Press Your Luck silently chanted "No Whammies! No Whammies!" WHAMMY! YOU ARE REQUIRED TO REPORT for jury service. My eight weeks of Saturdays interrupted by a "Monday" of jury duty.
I am hopeful tomorrow I will be deemed too smart, or I'm even okay with being deemed too much of a simpleton to serve on a jury. I selfishly would rather finish reading The Book Thief in the Montgomery County Courthouse versus listening to attorneys prattle on and on. I am imagining most trials fall short of the excitement of all those John Grisham novels I devoured as a teenager and lack the entertainment value of The Good Wife or even Law and Order. Although after having taught 12 Angry Men for eight years and given my current consumption of Orange is the New Black, I feel I am an expert in the nuances of my civic duty and crime and punishment. Maybe if I vehemently highlight these "qualifications" I will ensure my exclusion from any jury panel.
Here's to hoping I get to read my book, enjoy lunch at Taco Mike's a few blocks down from the courthouse tomorrow, and continue my "livin' easy" summer. But if this is not the case, I will hopefully leave the courthouse with an entertaining story to share.
