The first week back at school after a break is so tiring…It only takes two weeks to get out of the habit of planning, waking early, and then go go going for eight hours straight. Teaching, in a way, is constant theatre—at least for me. I pound a couple cups of coffee, and I’m off, setting the scene, asking questions, urging and nudging. I sit down during my planning period, that’s about it.
This week, we’re talking about Dr. Faustus, the seven deadly sins, nouns, and writing short stories. It’s been full, and good, and positive….and I’m about to keel over.
This, though, is the golden point of the weekend—Friday night, no alarm set in the morning, those quizzes that need grading are hidden from sight and mind…just two whole days of rest and freedom.
And even though there’s a part of me that feels this weird sort of accomplishment when I sign in each Friday, like I’ve checked off another day…there’s another part that will spend time over the next two days hatching all of the what-nexts of the coming week.
It’s the surprise and contradiction that keeps me at this. New each day, urging me to dig deep into my reserves of creativity…finding that there is always More.