december 19, 2000. Two more days. I'm starting to feel sick: sore throaty and light headed. I keep repeating to myself the mantra can't get sick. have to teach fifth business. can't get sick. have to teach fifth business. It's different in content from can't sleep. clown'll eat me, but the emotional pitch is the same. (yes, I think about the Simpsons all the time. my grasp of minute detail would make a strong nerd weep.) Fortunately, today was my last full day in the centre of the circus, so to speak. I have some poetry to finish up with the two Grade 11 classes and as I obsessively muttered earlier, I have to finish teaching Fifth Business to the Grade 12's. I'm having a rough time with the 12's...or I should say, every second day I have a rough time with the 12's. Today went down as smooth as 18-year-old McAllan's, but yesterday was brutal - like, Lord of the Flies brutal. This one girl kept riding me and riding me... Anyway, that's all in the past (although I fully expect it to happen again tomorrow). I've discovered the wonderful fearsomeness of the directed question. I'm sure you're all familiar with this, even if you don't know what it's called in teacher-speak. It goes like this: Shawn and Aaron are talking while I'm lecturing. I have an opportunity to ask a question, and instead of throwing it open to the 3 people who've read the book, I say "Aaron, what kind of reality am I talking about?" He says something along the lines of "buh?" (although "huh," "whuh," "guh" and "I'm sorry I wasn't listening" are acceptable alternates), I repeat the question and he stumbles through an answer. Result: the chattering birds quake in fear - kinda. They're all a mite too cool to show outward concern, and looking like a jackass in English class isn't terribly embarrassing for them. Still, it shuts at least two people up. But I think directed questioning is only half the answer; I think I felt so confident today because I got a letter from Agamemnon first thing in the morning. In this letter, he detailed a lesson he had taught on the meaning of gold, frankincense and myrrh, and ended with the proscription that if he could do well with a class, then I must be great. I'm not sure if this is true (Agamemnon is a pretty compelling speaker), but it made me all warm and fuzzy inside. Awwwww.