is there no end in sight?

i thought I was coming up for air, but no luck. . . already I'm choking on assignments, overdue volunteer legal stuff, plus of course the domestic dailies-- laundry etc. And parent visiting this weekend.

i need a holiday.

Friday afternoon

I have had the amazing opportunity of doing my first practicum in an "inner city" school-- probably the oldest, and most diverse school I have ever been to in my life.

This week I actually got to teach some classes. I was a little worried about my nerves getting the best of me, and crying in front of the kids (especially because of the very little sleep I was getting). I actually managed just fine in class. And even in the hallways. . .

. . . pictures on the wall invoking the history not just of the school, but of the city. . .

. . . complicated to navigate during breaks, talking, laughing, shouting, sometimes shoving. . .

. . . breakdancing demos at lunch. . .
dress up the teacher contests. . .
occasional fights. . .

and friday afternoon,
baggy jeaned, sneakered, head shaved,
circled by friends gathering up for the weekend,

haunting melody
on a violin

school

An informal poll showed that 6 out of 7 of my gr. 8's speak more than one language. Me? One.

dream

Where is my picture?
You've taken it down.
In your gallery of artwork
it would be out of place.
But
it was a gift. . .

Back in my workshop, I
painstakingly
pick out the colours
to buy, the canvas, the oils. I
shut out the world--
the busyness, the things to do--to create
my gift to you.

You can't put it up.
People would laugh.

Like Dorian Gray, the picture has changed.
Someone has taken the arm;
the left socket
is empty, red, dripping.

But. . .

Besides,
you know you're just
an amateur.

rain

Sometimes when it's raining I'm disappointed when the sun comes out. Sometimes I don't feel like being bright and perky and cheerful and productive. There are times when I want to let the afternoon waft over me like the fog over Stanley Park. Vibrant yellow and electric blue nuke the flavour out of my Earl Grey tea.

but the pancakes helped. . .

Class debates, conflicting philosophies. . . generative questions. . . constructivist theories and critical thinking. . . school for me, me! . . . in my element. . . such a guilty pleasure to visit this lofty tower again for just a little while. . .

. . . and then. . . fabulous evening, too much wine, inexplicable blow-up. . . I haven't been sent home crying from a friend's since I was eight. . . . What the hell happened?

Nothing like taking the piss out of the pretentious parade. So much for lofty.

Bump.

the multi-menace. . .

One of my profs recently enlightened us about the menace of multi-tasking. The root cause of end-of-day office mahem, she asserts, is multi-tasking. Apparently the key to efficiency and getting things done is not, as we've been led to believe, multi-tasking, but instead setting a list, focusing on a single item at a time, and ignoring all other tasks (no matter how pressing) until each item is completely finished and set aside.

So. . . now that my ever-growing to-do list is beginning to invade even my dreams at night, I've decided to give this single-focus strategy a try. At the top of my list is tomorrow's social justice assignment, followed my my kitchen clean-up chores, followed by the minutes of last Sunday's meeting, followed by editing my friend's scholarship essay, followed by putting away all the clothes in my room, followed by showering, followed by going to bed.

So far I've accomplished. . . let's see. . .

Um. . . hmm. . .

Okay, so. . . at the top of my list is revamping my blog. . .

Re-vamping!

. . . sort of. . . (thank you monkey and rabbit). . .