Spring Vacation

So far,
1. I have slept much. Since I don't work so much at school right now, having a competent and eager student teacher like Frank to take over most of the actual teaching, I didn't really think I was so tired. Turns out that teaching is more like two full time jobs, the actual teaching, and then all the other stuff: grading, planning, helping other people with projects, organizing and archiving, writing letters of recommendation, keeping track of kids’ lives, etc.
2. Game group came over to celebrate a birthday and play Nertz, and I haven’t seen anyone since there was some major drama at d’s school regarding sexual harassment and administration and half of the people in game group being victimized, so it was good to reconnect and see that everyone is pulling through ok.
3. I lost $8 at poker, even with Josh coaching me. My instincts are improving, and I had the second best hand several times. However, the poker gods conspired to deal me five different configurations of 6 and 3; that’s just a sign that luck is not on one’s side.
4. It is spring and I should be at the beach soaking up sun, but it is rainy and I have a new cold—too many late nights of cards. . . I will steam at the gym later.
5. I bought an 8 week subscription to the Star, not because I want to stay better informed, need to recycle more stuff, or can’t find news online, but because two junior high boys came to my door during poker and gave me that look, the one I’m a sucker for at school, the look that says, “Would it cause you internal bleeding to help me out?” So yeah. I’m on vacation, and I can’t escape kids. And doing things for kids. And telling kids what to do (“Don’t go inside other people’s houses. Not every house is filled with teachers. . .”).
6. Taxes are totally done, turned in, gone. Out of my hands. Now I can sit back and wait for direct deposit.

It’s still April. Read some more poetry!


Sonnet 98
William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.