biggest [expletive] ever
So. The long-awaited entry about my new job. After putting this off for a full week, tonight I am totally burnt out from St. Stephen’s wedding. I am cranky, I am tired and my throat hurts. Here’s the gist of my conclusions:
Yeah, I’m actually happy. The kids are fine. The books are fine. The school is gorgeous – I’ve never taught in such a clean, new, sensible building. My colleagues are very helpful, and, much like the staff at Hogsboro High, are quick to answer questions and provide me with essential materials. My class of 11 Willows is marching along in step with the other 11 Willows, a new thing for me but a safe place for my first year here. I have enough books for my classes and none of my 11 Faiths burst into flames when I made them read to the rest of the class. So all & all, it’s been outstanding. Even things that would normally kill me (like when the computer wouldn’t boot for my Power Point presentation) just kind of wash on over. I’m teaching well and hitting all of my marks.
I also like the staff a fair bit. There’s a lot of energy in my prep room, and while it’s not always easy to work, I like being drawn into conversations at random. A lot of the other teachers are young women, and there’s a pervasive perkiness to the place that I’ve never felt before. By this time second semester I’m either going to be like everyone else or I’m going to be the one black sheep that no one wants to talk to, let alone share a laptop with. Sob. At least Maeve likes me, and likes my pithy way with definitions.
St. St.’s wedding = the awesome. Again, I’m a little too burnt out to do it justice, but I can say that this weekend made me feel 25 again. Not quite 20, because there was a maturity to everyone that wasn’t there when the beautiful Lady Godiva was taking off her clothes in public and St. Jack had a wonderfully horrible jacket for each day of the week. But although it wasn’t like being in Ferg, I felt like I had been given a sight-seeing pass to those heady days of wild abandon and lavish high spirits. Despite the child, despite the sorrows of my career, despite the stretch marks and the errant dark facial hairs; this weekend I fell into a reverie that only ended this morning, when I was reluctantly dragged back into the real world.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*