Back on the bike going nowhere.
Tuesday goes like this: I teach a two section class of college-prep English, then sit in on devotions, then attend Hebrew class as a scribe (that is, I scribble), then teach a 45-min. Latin class, then break away at lunch time to truck home and eat, then take Candace to college, then grade essays and Latin quizzes, then whisk my students' papers back to them right as school lets out.
In English we are just starting to work on an abridged Shakespeare play, Twelfth Night. Amy abridged it for us. The kids are excited and rightly so because it's a real hoot. The real hoot comes after they get their parts down and get to act it out. Every high schooler could do with a little Shakespeare, says me.
Closer to home (and not so close to home), I have sent the first two English students ever I taught into the college world - and they both decided to add their voice to the long line of great journalists. Josh and Candace, I'm proud, real proud. ::her head tilts back as she swells a bit::
One can't help but notice how she conveniently took all the credit.
Who said that?
... I must be hearing voices ...
Amy, our resident author/poet, entered the dining room yesterday just as I was doing paperwork, and in my search for inspiration and escape from the mundane, I was simultaneously steaming cauliflower and listening to jazz (both art forms which she utterly despises). As she walked about wrinkling her forehead and delicately holding her nose, I couldn't restrain the sudden outburst of laughter that came over me. I told her that she must have done something terribly bad indeed to deserve this punishment. My sides split, I laughed so hard at the sight. I guess you would of had to have been there. (We verbalize the previous phrase all the time, but in print it looks horribly awkward.)
Coming to the close, I realize that it is now around 10 p.m. and I sit happily typing away. My husband will be home in an hour, and I still have a few things I want to do before he appears. I like this time of night. He met and married a night owl, and since then I have reformed to appreciate the finer benefits of being an early bird, but given the chance, I can still revel in the quiet beauty and serenity of the night.