I have checked and responded to emails, a highlight of my day; I have caught up on blogs, checked my Twitter feed, and responded to the quick responders from my first email check. My other option is to get out my text book, easily my most pressing need, but that will only make me sleepier. I must avoid instructional reading until this Diet Mt. Dew kicks in. So here comes the word vomit.
For the moment, my students are being very well-behaved. Of course, in the early morning when I need something to wake me up they would be silent and lull me to sleep with the rhythmic tapping on their keyboards. It's surely a plot against me; I'm convinced that high schoolers are never well-behaved on purpose. I wasn't good on purpose, anyway; I just lacked the courage to be bad.
Lesson learned: when you leave your gloves in the car over night, they, like your car, will be 23 degrees when you put them on. This renders said gloves useless and unable to fulfill their warming obligation. In fact, they're really quite painful to wear when they're just as cold as the air you're trying to escape. It just compresses the cold air around your skin, which I think makes your hands even colder. Note to self: take gloves inside with you. That way, I'll just forget them altogether instead of putting my hand into a block of ice fitted perfectly to my hand.
One of my kids is currently perusing Rolling Stone magazine. Now, I've read Rolling Stone magazine a time or two-- hello, I'm not going to turn down a mag with John Mayer looking sulkily up at me from the cover-- and I'm fairly certain, nay positive, that it is not appropriate for high school students.
Having written that, I've realized immediately how old I am. Ugh.
Most recent announcement: All students interested in joining the fishing team please meet in the library at break. Wow. A fishing team? Fantastic. Who exactly are we going to compete with, might I ask? There just can't be that many fishing teams in the area. But mazel, GHS; way to step it up in the extracurricular arena. Our cheerleaders can't compete, but thank goodness there will be an undisputed fishing champion in the 4A division.
Music would wake me up, I think, but there are undoubtedly students in my classroom that wouldn't appreciate-- or worse, wouldn't recognize-- the iconic stylings of the Beatles. Taylor Swift causes too much of a stir as it creates a frenzy of students debating over whether or not she is a genius or overrated. Obviously she's a genius, and I'd hate to become part of the frenzy myself. Not so professional. Also, songs referring to sex, drugs, and rock and roll aren't appropriate... so that's pretty limiting. They just don't make songs like they used to, am I right?
To make up for my lack of stature and authority, I wear heels to work. Obviously the heel gives me a boost in stature, rising me up to towering new heights of 5'5, maybe 5'6. But the click-clack in the hallway is a sound of power. Clusters of students scurry like cockroaches when they hear the heels clicking down the hall; they assume someone more important than me is coming toward them, but I'll take it.
I'm going to hit the books now. I'll surely be back when my eyelids start drooping. I give it ten minutes, max.
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