My room is the cleanest it's been in weeks, although it's still more stuff than floor. I decided to write a sequence of poems using as titles terms from cognitive behavioral psychology jargon. (Don't steal my idea, yo.) I also tried to write about the fact that I slept with a spider directly above my head for three nights and when I finally dealt with it it was not, as I had assumed from the fact that it hadn't moved, dead, which was, I found, a little freaky.
Over the past three days I have met with all 15 of my students (as well as doing six hours of tutoring and teaching my class as usual) and I now feel an almost physical pain at the sound of my own voice. At the same time, I'm sort of excited about the way my class is going. This is the first time I'm actually trying to improve my students' poems. I've pretty much kicked their collective ass on the use of cliches and generalities and they're taking it really well. I think they may grow to understand something, which would be pretty much a first in my teaching career. I also feel like I've clarified things for myself that I may be able to use.
Right now, however, my plan is to go to the gym and read Harry Potter. Isn't that enviable? I would envy me if I wasn't so tired that I'd rather just watch 18 hours of television while eating tuna casserole and gummi bears.
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