At this point of the school year, Friday afternoons come with a giant sigh of relief. Even though I was just going to come home and grade papers, I could sit on the couch and get caught up on Orphan Black and The Daily Show and maybe even grading stuff (it could happen). And then I might be able to sleep more than 5 or 6 hours at night, and perhaps drink my cup of tea in the morning before I have to deal with people. I need this down time, as my dreams (nightmares?) of school ending and my grades being incomplete confirm.
I have no voice this morning. Four days of frog dissections, microscopes, and starting to teach sex ed (or NOT sex ed, as I call it, because I’m not teaching them how to have sex. I’m teaching the scary shit that happens if you DO have sex. It’s more like Consequence Ed) and my voice is shot. I can’t sing along to my favorite songs or even talk to the dog without it cracking. The parent shadowing their student yesterday blessed me after she sat through the class (I personally don’t find it difficult to teach this unit…).
Grading papers last night…
Three episodes of Orphan Black, plus I cooked and ate dinner with boychild, because girlchild blew us off again (as he says, “less conflict” and with him there, I’ll actually cook, instead of loll around on the couch and wish I had a replicator). I finished all the science journals though (hallelujah). I have two weeks of warmups, one homework assignment, and about 20 trifolds on Google Classroom. I can do that all this weekend, right? (ha ha haha hahahaha dissolves into hysterical laughter). I could do that. But that would be crazy. What I also could do is empty the dishwasher, pick up my car finally, get the kids’ checks from the UK into their accounts, clean something, wash something, run some errand. I’ll grade more Sunday night. I’m on a break. I will input the stupid journal grades though, before the last two periods hyperventilate themselves to death. There are not enough hours in the day. If I read another article about how teachers have to give meaningful and immediate feedback on assignments when there is no way to do that unless you STOP SLEEPING COMPLETELY, I will scream. The little ones? Sure. All the time. The big stuff? Yeah. You don’t pay me for all that overtime I do already. Shut the fuck up.
Rant. Sigh. Fourteen days.
I was really tired when I finished all that stuff, but I managed to find the energy to sort the pieces out…
It only took 39 minutes. There were a lot of teensy weensy pieces. Cuz I’m crazy.
I am now ready to iron. Well, the fabric is ready. I’m really tired at the moment, so I’m not ready. I would need at least one more infusion of seriously strong British tea.
I have a strong desire to turn the music up really loud and dance in the hallways. Tea must be working. Vacation must be tickling my brain. Ha! I see you over there, beckoning me. Just start summer vacation now. Fuck the rest of the year. Just come over here (funny that, since we got an email about the end-0f-year absences and the sub shortage in California and how principals are carefully looking at the time we take off, especially Fridays and Mondays.). I have a lot of sick days. But I won’t do that. It’s OK. I take my job too seriously. Fucking workaholic.
This morning, I sent the dog out to pee. She’s a retriever. Here she is, barking at the two ducks in the pool enclosure.
The arrow? The hole she tore in the fence so she could hang out around the pool. So she could go in there and retrieve ducks. But she’s scared of them. She’s also scared of the cats. Speaking of which, Babygirl is probably not long for this world. She’s fading fast. I wake up every morning and go searching for her, expecting to find her dead. That sounds horrible, I know, but…what can I say? We give her love and food and pets, and hope she just falls asleep and doesn’t wake up, because that’s easier than some of the ends of lives we’ve dealt with in this house. And no, it’s not treatable, far as we know. She’s older than we thought she was, and we gave her 2 1/2 good years of love, so I feel OK with this. I just want her to go easily. But she does nothing easily, so she’ll probably fight this too. Right now, she’s lying in a patch of sun by the sliding glass door. Old lady contentment.
Boychild wanted to know if it was always the same two ducks in the pool, and the answer is no…
That male is way splotchier than other ones I’ve seen, and sometimes it’s two males. Never two females though. Weird. I think I have a duck time share in my yard. I’m not getting a cut, though, and that seems unfair.
Anyway. It’s Saturday. I’m playing music. I have one cup of tea in me. All the animals are fed. One kid is up and showered; the other was muttering loudly before, but has not surfaced. I just enjoy sitting here with my foot up (podiatrist appointment in July, for god’s sake) and my tea and the music on, feeling less pressure than I did before to get shit done. It’s OK. The pressure will be back tomorrow. I’m just trying to hold it off for 24 hours or so.
I think I need to draw something. Or watch a movie. Or both.