november 30, 2001. A pretty excellent day today, despite the fact that I taught lessons 4 out of 6 periods (there was one prep period and an assembly late in the afternoon). The fact that I could get through the whole day without wanting to die more than once or twice means that my cold is finally receding. It fought a bitter battle, but it's finally releasing it's grudging hold on my energy levels and will to live. Which is good, because I've semi-seriously thought about quitting the whole edumacational conga line several times this week. The constant work during the day; the preparation periods that run late into the night; the 10 exhausted, hungry minutes I get to spend with the Boy every day - all of these have been taking big shark bites out of my morale. Yet now that we're at the end of the week and I can sit down with a Coke & an open laptop, it's all good. It's all good. The only thing that could make it better is the promise of alcohol and frenetic dancing with my abandoned Toronto posse - but I can live with that desire because in 3 weeks I will be on the way home. Whee! And besides, this week has brought me wonderful wisdom. I can offer a new theological insight, one that seems to have missed both Thomas Aquinas and Charlie Brown. Hell isn't other people and it isn't folks in red leotards poking me with pitchforks. Hell is teaching Grade 7 with a lingering illness. Believe it. But I did start to have fun today. A bunch of girls (and boys, come to think of it) in my homeroom started pestering me for personal information at recess. I fobbed them off with the story that I was between 200 and 17 years old, and that I had 14 children. (My favourite fictional offspring are Jean and Francine, the Siamese twins.) It was kind of nice to be treated like a girl again, although I suspect that they were mostly responding to a) the blue jeans and pigtails I wore to school today and/or b) despite the fact that I'm easily twice their age, I'm also way closer to their age than most of their teachers. Also, I can't rule out that they might have been looking for weakness. Teachers must always be on guard about that - Constant Vigilance! as noted teacher Mad Eye Moody would say. I've also been amusing myself by writing my friends into tests and exercises. Palaver & Stacy have both made it into my homonym test, as has the Boy. It makes me giggle every time I mark it. There've been a few spots of tension & a few days that I absolutely despised every life choice that brought me into the classroom. But overall there was only one major source of stress. On Wednesday my co-operating teacher warned me that if I could not control the huge class of academically struggling kids, she would have to take back the class. It's not that they had taken over the class & indulged in Lord of the Flies-type behaviour on Wednesday, heavens no. But they were a trifle rowdier than usual, which threatened their careful progress towards model behaviour. Anyway, I had mixed feelings about this ultimatum. On one hand, my natural sense of competition demanded that I take on this challenge and stomp it to death...on the other, losing that responsibility would mean one less class to teach. On the third hand, losing that class would threaten my ability to successfully handle 3 whole weeks of all-day teaching next semester. On the fourth hand, I can do without the 40 minutes a day of keeping the constant attention of 30 12-year-olds. I just didn't know. But it's all kind of a moot point because I kept nearly perfect order today. My teacher said, and I quote, "I'm impressed." This is, of course, praise more precious than rubies to the student teacher. All in all, I've been missing my old class something fierce. Sure, it was harder teaching 30 inanimate teenage lumps, but at least my teacher was very upfront about enjoying my lessons and my ideas. I miss that expansive generosity of spirit. A lot. In other news, on Tuesday I went to bed alone (trying to escape the ever-present thoughts of Grade 7 Geography), but I woke up with a novelist. Yes indeedy, the Boy has finished his NaNoWriMo novel ahead of time and we're pretty freaking happy. I made him a traditional celebratory novel cake, which is remarkably similar to a Betty Crocker vanilla cake mix with Smarties on the top that spell out 'N' (just in case you've lost your own family's secret novel cake recipe and need to make one in a hurry). I'm hopeful that next year I will be getting the novel cake (or more likely, baking my own traditional celebratory novel cake). Now all I need is an idea or two...hundred. This weekend will be our first weekend since October without a SMILE session. I predict that we will do nothing terribly productive with the hours before noon on Saturday; it'll be nice to make the experiment. I'm hoping to go grocery shopping tomorrow, as we've been living on bagels, angel hair pasta and tinned beans for longer than I care to say. This will also be the first weekend in a month that we will have both the money and time to go grocery shopping. Hurrah! (Okay, I would still trade it all in for a decadent night of beer & dancing in black clothes. But I'll live. There's a lot to be said for the quiet life; I'm just tired of saying it.) this time 2 years ago: And we're getting married in August. Just like that.