The beautiful thing about writing is how it can come and go in fits and starts. I have found my own writing to be very ADHD’ish, where I can skip to topics midstream. This is one of those outcomes.
I am teaching summer school this year for the first time where I have my own classes. I am ALREADY tired of summer school. Honest. Truth. I’m over it. I have found the differences, both stark and subtle. During the school year, I can place controls over the students. In summer school, I barely even recognize the kids, and we aren’t together long enough to control anything. Students come into classes looking like they either just got out of bed and came to school (in pajamas, mind you), or they come with body odor so bad that the air takes on a very sharply tinged quality. I’m talking the kind of funk that begins to cause hallucinations prior to passing out.
But, even in this environment, I sense the opportunity for a story to come out of this. There are so many students, and personalities. So many profiles. So many lessons. I think that we will spend the next few weeks looking a little bit more in depth about this experience of mine. This should be good.
Hold on to your seats, or your noses…either way.