The kids learned a lot this week and sweat through some intense classes. Today is their assessment, and I woke up wondering if I pushed too hard for 8th graders- 20 vocabulary words, two short stories, two lessons on motifs and foreshadowing, and two author bios- one on Roald Dahl (who they always love) and one on W.W. Jacobs. I guess I'll find out tonight while I'm grading.
As I alluded to last time, so much has changed, but one thing always remains- form is emptiness, emptiness is form. When I walked into the Katrina damaged school 2 years ago, with rough kids who wanted to fight me, I couldn't see what they really were inside.
Not that a middle school er is a crystal ball. I have no idea how one can go from sweetly tying a tie for a 4Th grader to talking back to a teacher in the next. They're in such flux, a constant war inside their hearts and heads.
Eh, and then maybe I'm not so different. I woke up Monday and wanted to give up the apartment, the kids, the girlfriend, and show up on Reirin's door step, ready to sew a kesa.
And then, I haven't sat for the last 3 days.
I asked a co-worker if he ever felt like just heading for mountains. He said no. Maybe it's an alcholic thing.
But today I'm in comfortable pants and my M.C.P.A t-shirt. It's Fly High Friday! We shorten classes and at lunch, we head to City Park, the name sake of our school.