I had all these serious things I wanted to write about--well, one serious thing and several funny things--but, to be completely honest, I'm not feeling it because this was one of those days that I had to will myself to get through.
Before World Lit, I even considered showing the Most-Boring-Documentary-Of-All-Time about Buddhism just so I didn't have to face my class. Most of the sweet ones were out today on an art field trip, and I was left with the group of rather entitled, I-just-don't-give-a-sh*t boys, the same ones who got an honor violation from me last week. We're on tenterhooks with each other in a big way. But I sucked it up and attempted to teach the Four Noble Truths. I tried. I split up the time with different activities. I showed a useful and accessible YouTube clip. I even scaffolded and stuff. Still, ho hum.
Partly this is probably because I am the usually Queen of Ninth Grade, where I can kind of coast when I need to, as opposed to Smells Like A New 10th Grade Teacher, where I need to do actual planning. But I haven't figured out when that planning is supposed to happen.
I realized the importance of that whole "toolbox" thing one of my grad school professors kept yammering on about.
I need a damn hammer. Or something.
Probably a break. The last few weeks have been unrelenting. First my son got the flu, then my baby girl got an ear infection. I was out of work for a week--at a new job. Then, as soon as they felt better, I got sick. And then mr. hipteacher's class load at the art school where he teaches got slashed, essentially cutting his salary by a third. And then my basement flooded. We just moved into a smallish house, and we thought it would be smart to move pretty much everything into the basement and move it up one box at a time. But then there was water. Lots and lots of water.
I mourn the loss of all my books. ALL my books. And other things, clothes and boxes of god knows what, of course. But mostly my books.
Oh. And, although I am now thirty-one years of age, I also have a zit the size of one of those freaky redwood trees in California that people can walk under and get married and stuff.
I am officially at my quota, I tell the universe. Things will now turn around.
Watching This American Life episodes does soothe a little.
Tomorrow will be better.