Sometimes I look at the search terms people use to find my website. I usually find that it’s a mistake. It makes me want to search through all my posts for that particular phrase, which maybe I used, but I don’t think so? Because it’s not in my vernacular? I remember once many years ago when I was teaching in a different district, a parent accused me of saying something to their child that would have been (1) incredibly inappropriate (if I had actually said it, which I didn’t) and (2) grammatically incorrect (which is why I knew I had never said it). In fact, I was fairly sure I knew which kid had said it (a second-language learner…hence the grammar issue), but all they really wanted was an apology for something I’d never said. I tried to explain why I wouldn’t have said it, but the parents weren’t having it, weren’t understanding the grammar part. Whatever. Sometimes the hardest part of my job is dealing with parental expectations…for me and for their student and for the world in general.
So after a perfectly delightful meeting at a quilt store to drop off a cat quilt and (honestly) buy some more fabric because I needed stuff for the bathtub (in the quilt…not the one the dog and cats were in), I made it to the gym and home, mostly exhausted, but with a post-it-note list of things I had to do for school. Post this, print that, and then magically come up with shit for kids to do who for some inexplicable reason can’t be in the classroom with all the other kids. Pain in my ass. Because the stuff we’re doing isn’t actually do-it-alone stuff. I still teach, people. I put a lot of stuff online, yes, but it’s only after listening to me and watching me and asking me questions that kids are doing some of the online stuff. They aren’t good readers, in general, and I act out processes and they listen (well, mostly) as part of their understanding. So if I assign two articles and tell them to read and annotate, and then do this other assignment over here based on that…a ton of kids will just make shit up to avoid doing the reading. I had to make up a week’s worth of stuff for one kid. The other kid is leaving next week and won’t be back until January, and I know where he’s going and probably why, but can’t think of any job where you can just up and disappear for over 5 weeks and expect to still have a job when you get back. Meanwhile, I have to plan curriculum day by day through January, and I’ve barely got December under my belt. It would have been done, but my coteacher has been gone (good reason) and she and I have some coordinating to do.
All that, as far as I got (because I didn’t finish the kid who’s gone for a month) took until 9 PM, which is when I finally made dinner. And sat and ate it with a dog’s nose under my armpit (the house is cold). And then I should have finished grading Per 8’s tests and started grading Per 4’s journals, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Too Many Hours on my job. I had a plan for what I was going to work on last night, and I didn’t get to any of it because of other people’s shit.
The only way to deal with that level of frustration is to make art. But I was really tired by then and felt like I should be cleaning out boychild’s room (his return gets closer every day, I hear), so all I did was sort the Wonder Under…
Yup. That’s some exciting art stuff there. The color! The interest! Eight boxes of Wonder Under, sorted by number. If I could just get my studio straightened out, I could start picking fabrics. Maybe that will be tonight. I just don’t know. I’m not holding out much hope.
I did wash the fabric I got yesterday, but did not even have the energy last night to pull it out and fold it…
I do love my new dryer though. It’s trés efficient. Yes, lots of grays and whites and a little black. I needed bathtub fabric. I also think I need a donut. That’s stress talking. Ironically, it’s the same stress that drags me to the gym. Whatever works.