stuff that happens

Hey I have a blog! Neat!

As it turns out, teaching takes a lot of one's personal time. In addition to that, when one does get some personal time, it's kind of like being removed from a giant washing machine, all wrung out and disoriented. By the time one reaches a place in which blogging is a physical, mental and emotional possibility it's time for class again.

That said, I was at faculty meeting today relaying a story from earlier and realized that there are so many things to blog about and it's a shame to let them go unshared with the internet. For example, when one of my favorite students turned into the Tasmanian Devil this morning, attacked another student, screamed and cried at the top of her lungs while running through every classroom in the school and, when cornered, wriggled out of the library window. Then, when another student caught her as she was coming out of the window she shoved him and screamed, "don't fucking touch me! don't fucking come near me! he's touching me!" and attempted to turn the wrath of the administration upon this young man who did not speak then or for several hours after the incident.

I work in a different sort of school.

Actually, I get up every morning happy to go to work. I hate to believe this, but I think loving a job is pretty rare. I know I've had many that I certainly didn't love. Yet, in spite of children flailing and screaming and occasionally being referred to psych wards, I enjoy the hell out of teaching at my school.

Here's the thing, it takes about 80 hours of my week. So, blog, I am terribly sorry about all the neglect. I am hereby pledging to make a sincere effort to relay a teaching story here and there, because some stuff should be recorded. Like today, when, before the madness, one of my students set up an elaborate arrangement of mirrors and one beam of light so that anyone entering the girl's bathroom, upon looking in the mirror, looked like the target of a sniper. THAT is just plain funny.