Here's where I'm spending this week. My favourite part of the photo, above, is CJ's tiger overseeing the situation (ironically, it's the part that gets cut out of the photo when this blog is posted online; I'm sure that's a metaphor for something). I'm marking. That's what I'm doing. By the end of this evening, I expect to be more than halfway done. (That's the sound of me knocking on wood.) If all goes as planned, I will finish on Friday. (The knocking is getting louder.)
Maybe then I can fold that basket of clean laundry at the end of the table, which will no doubt have expanded into two wildly overflowing baskets of clean laundry if left until then.
Anyway, if you don't hear from me between now and the weekend, you'll know what I'm up to. And why my posture is deteriorating by the hour. And why I suddenly have the urge to write. In broken. Oddly, punctuated, sentences. Grumpy oldster comment ahead, but I don't think anyone's teaching kids grammar anymore (did anyone, ever, come to think of it?). It's like they're on their own, trying to negotiate a sea of inexplicable commas. I want to help them!
Here's an awkward transition. I'll just throw it in like this.
Can you spot the common theme in the following two photos?
new art area
I'm signing off. Pencil in hand, freshly sharpened, back to the table, back to the tiger. I can see it, even if you can't.
Labels: laundry, soccer, teaching, work