Classroom Musings

It's one of those great days to be a substitute teacher. I'm teaching English today.

The first two classes were grade nines, studying the beginning of Act II of Twelfth Night. They were good -- they did as I asked, and paid attention. There was a little silliness from the usual sources, but certainly nothing I couldn't handle, and not as bad as I've seen them be.

I am with an IB Grade Eleven group now, and they are working on presentations on a particular poet. I'm typing away so that it doesn't look like I'm eavesdropping, but let's be honest -- I'm enjoying every minute of their literary discourse. Seeing these kids analyze poetry is a thing of beauty, like watching a well-oiled machine do the job it was built for. Occasionally their conversations stray, but for the most part they are on task. A thing of beauty.

I wish my analytical mind were in better shape. I did okay this morning with Twelfth Night (a play I've never really read in full, let alone studied), and that made me feel a little better. The sprockets aren't completely rusted just yet.

But I miss writing. I haven't really written anything in so long. And I don't even know why. I think it's just because I haven't made any time for it. I haven't sat down and said, "Okay, I'm going to write now." I get doing other things, be it working, or playing The Sims 2, or doing email, or Scottish cultural stuff, or napping ... Writing just isn't one of the things that automatically pops in my head anymore. It isn't even on my radar. And that's sad.

I think, once I get the diningroom straightened around a bit, I will start writing at Doug's mom's desk. I love the fact that it's a roll-top -- it's like opening a whole new world at will. I will stock it with paper and pens and make it a "home away from home". I will use it only for writing, and I will write on the PDA and wirelessly send it to the main desktop computer. It will become a "special space".

And I will force myself to write until it feels natural again.