At the end of my freshman year of college, I was invited to apply to a renowned program for the performance of Shakespeare. A small group of students — to which I was accepted — studied three of Shakespeare’s plays and went out into sweltering rural Texas, in the middle of summer, to perform them, night after night, before paying audiences, in a small barn with no air conditioning. Our professor had purposely recruited students with no more than limited acting experience so we could work from fresh, authentic interactions with the text. We discovered that previous classes had nicknamed it “Shakespeare boot camp.” To this day, joining that band of players remains one of my proudest achievements. I barely made it through intact.

One night I dropped a major line so utterly, that I had to ad lib my way off stage. My professor was livid. I can tell you, the long path from long-haired naif to the bald-pate of advanced wisdom before you now began in that hectic, hazy central Texas countryside. (Literally, as clumps of hair began to fall out from stress.)

One of the “cadets” played Hotspur, a fiery-tempered rebel knight from the history play Henry IV, Part One. His was a demanding role that required both physicality and concentration. On one occasion, only a couple of hours before an evening performance, I found my friend alone in the guys’ dorm room (all the women stayed in a similar room on the opposite side of the building). He sat stretched out on his bunk, reading jazz-era novel The Beautiful and the Damned. “How can you focus on that,” I asked, “when we have so much to do? And so many lines to keep in our heads?” I wasn’t criticizing; I really wanted to know.

“Take it easy, man.” He smiled the sideways grin of a rebel knight. “There’s always time for Fitzgerald.”

I think about that statement often, especially on nights like this, when I have stacks of papers to grade, and a feeling that the most unappealing parts of my work are far, far from over. I have learned that I have to take time for myself, and for my family. Part of what makes me a whole person, and the parent I want to be, is knowing that I always have time to read and write. If it means two more pages of Gabriel Garcia-Marquez, or a little classic Chris Claremont X-men, or just hanging out with my kindergartner and some Mo Willems… life is more play, and less script.