I've started doing something I haven't done on a regular basis since I was about 10 years old: keep a journal. Here's the thing: What's something that everyone has either been through, about to go through or are currently putting their kids through? School! (or some facsimile thereof) Who is in one every day and has a thousand stories, observations and insights to share? Me!
So, I thought that since I have a sabbatical coming up next year that will afford me all kinds of time to write, I really should be jotting downs incidents and my reactions to them now, while I'm in the thick of it and it's all fresh.
If anyone finds this diary, it would be a catastrophe. After all, diaries are supposed to be unadulterated and unedited, for an audience of one, right? That's what makes them juicy. If it was the kind of diary other people could read without being astonished, it wouldn't be a very good diary.
Here's an excerpt:
March 30, 2011. Period 3 Socials. Again.
Handed out a worksheet. They like worksheets. They ask for them all the time. I don't mark worksheets. Why would I? All they are is copying out of a book, I don't know how it proves they know anything. They say they like the worksheets. I was just told, "Do you see how quiet it is in here?" But it is surprising (or not) to note how many of them don't even do these coveted work sheets. Can't be bothered.
Okay, so that wasn't exactly juicy. Seriously, the juicy entries can only surface to the world in a very surreptitious, oblique kind of a way where the guilty won't have a clue that the indictments of which I speak are about THEM! You'll have to come to my play when it's ready to really get the dirt.
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