I have this student. He's - not to put too fine a point on it - an emotional infant. Unfortunately, he's also a big mean jock, so his immaturity comes out in violent-seeming tantrums and other ugly displays of temper. He can usually be found wasting time, both in my class and in others. His mark in my class is quite low, and when he found this out on Friday, he flew into a rage, believing himself to be entitled to laurel wreaths and lovely wenches for not doing homework and talking out of turn.

Today he has decided to 'punish' me for my 'meanness' by refusing to do any work, claiming that the class is 'crazy.' He spent the entire period talking to four other members of my magnificent seven (a septet distinguished by failing grades). I actually get quite a vindictive charge out of his decision - from this point on, his attitude is going to flunk him, not me. Not that I had anything to do with his grade to begin with - I had nothing against him before this latest episode...in a class like that you simply can't hold grudges. Still, this pleases the misanthropist girl I try to keep under wraps.

"Bart! Take those bottles to the staff lounge! You can have what's left at the end of the day."

- mrs. krabapple, 'flaming moe' episode

Today we had a half-hour staff meeting followed by sandwiches, veggies & beer in the staff room. Last Friday in the staff room there were corsages and a full continental breakfast in honour of "World-wide Teacher Appreciation Day." On Wednesday morning there was a pancake breakfast for new staff & students. I have an invitation to a comedy club in my mailbox, and a new staff social this week.

I have never in my life worked at a place where morale is so thoroughly considered. The closest I came was Zellers, which did an awful lot of fun things for charity. Of course, I've never had a job that made me so depressed and anxious that I needed to be on two powerful medications to get through the day. The sandwiches and beer are nice, though.

So yeah, I took a week or so off. Not much happened: my mood has continued to stabilize through the judicious application of prescribed pharmaceuticals and I continue to drown in work. At least now I can do the work without freaking out.

On Wednesday I attended my first stress seminar. It's a good place to be: not only is the information useful, I enjoy being in a room where I don't have to hide or pretend to be more functional than I am. This sounds kinda pathetic, but it's nice to know that I'm not alone in my misery. Next week we create a stress map, and I can't wait to find out what I'm really uptight about. It's like a treasure hunt in reverse: if I'm successful, I'll uncover buried poison. This is, nonetheless, a good thing. Poison is better found than lost.

On Thursday I was up half the night finishing up progress reports, meaning that on Friday I was able to re-enact Night of the Living Dead with minimal effort. When school was finally over, I gothed up & boogied on down to the Bedford Ballroom for dinner with Dirk & Q. (I tend to goth up on Friday evenings, simply because I want to prove to myself that I don't have to look like a teacher 24/7. This week I included my teacher carnation in my hair, adding a surreally festive touch to the fishnets & spikes look). Dirk & I met the Boy at the doors of the Free Friday Film and the three of us took in "My Own Private Idaho," a film I have yet to fully understand. Afterwards we chatted with the Boy's new friend Grey Owl and arranged to watch this week's Buffy episode on a really big teevee. By the time Buffy wrapped up, I was so sleep depped that my IQ had dropped at least 40 points; figuring out how to get home was a major ordeal. That I finally managed it was due in no small part to the Boy's ability to shepherd my dumb ass from place to place.

There was no rest for the wicked on Saturday, as I'd promised to attend an all-day professional development workshop on the urging of the Boy's mother. The teacher stuff passed over me in a wave as I struggled to keep my eyes open. Finally we were set free on the lunch buffet; I gobbled my free food, grabbed a sandwich for the Boy & cut out before anyone could notice my departure. When I got home, the Boy & I took a 3-hour nap, as he'd been subject to the same vicious hours and he needed a rest as much as I did. I woke up depressed, and no amount of positive action could shake my mood. I decided to hole up at the House Where Nobody Lives for awhile, and Dirk, Tym & I vegged in front of "The Shawshank Redemption" for the whole night. I left the house gloomier than before, brought down by the fact that my only day off was now over.

On Sunday I worshipped & worked steadily, with a brief break for "The Princess Bride" at a local rep cinema. It was a gorgeous day, and I felt a brief pang of guilt that my activities had been entirely indoor. Still, I got a lot of work done. That is the important thing.

I cried a lot this weekend. I don't know if this has anything to do with my general depression or my specific anxieties. The fact remains that although I have become functional, I am no closer to enjoying my life.