I love, love, love teaching in a year-round school. Nine weeks on, three weeks off (two and a half weeks for teachers); five weeks in the summer (four for teachers). It’s good for kids. It’s good for their bodies; it’s good for their retention of material and, therefore, academic achievement. It’s good for teachers, or at least this one. Strict nine-week timelines help focus instruction and light a fire under my ass, and frequent breaks from the kids are good for my sanity/affection for them. This calendar also allows me to go to Costa Rica for a week, and then still have ten days off in which to sleep, do house projects, visit family, and whatnot.
That being said, unstructured time is Bad for Amy Scott’s Psyche. Next intersession, I need to make sure I create a schedule for myself so as not to swirl into existential despair and this weird version of agoraphobia I seem to have conjured this time.
So the alarm went off this morning. I hate the alarm. I have it set to that marimba tone on my iPhone, and it makes me dry-heave a little when it goes off. Or when someone else has it set as their ringtone. (If you ever see me out and I’m retching for no apparent reason — probably somebody just got a call, and I’m having flashbacks. To that morning.)
But I have to be at work, and that’s probably a good thing.
I put up my first OKCupid profile three years ago. So glad that worked out for me! :/
Two years ago, I started watching my gay husband Paul from afar at CrossFit.
My particular brand of crazy really revs up in the nighttime, as it did a year ago.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.