Didja miss me?

2004-08-08 at 9:36 p.m.

Heh.

Which is rather ironic, because I'm trying to get ready to be gone for another week. Summer term ends Thursday, then we drive up to Seattle to meet Mom and Dad and Jay and Gail and Lee and James and Jessica, drive up to Vancouver, get on a big ol' boat, sail up to Alaska, sail back down, drive back down to Portland, host my 'rents and my bro and sisses for two days, then just host my younger sis for two more days, then whew! I have four days until I Am a Student Teacher.

Whee ha!

Sometimes it's just necessary to regroup. I had an unexpected ten-day stint of family issues just before the term started, and then the term started and I just couldn't face things, y'know? I barely called frineds in town, much less anyone else.

This happens to me regularly. ("Oh really Kari? We hadn't noticed.") Maybe it's a function of regularly overcommitting myself and then just having to cocoon. Maybe it's just the normal hormonal party that races through my bloodstream--a couple months of great, then some "make it through" time. Maybe it's just that summer term is a freaking drag, yo.

Seriously, peeps. Monday through Thursday, I start each day with a five hour class. What dope-smokin' dick thought this was a good idea? Even if one meets Monday-Wednesday, and the other meets Tuesday-Thursday, it's still starting each day with a five hour class. I'd so much rather have two hours of each class four days a week. Because there's no professor on this earth I love enough to take for five hours at a time. I barely love my husband enough to take him lecturing me for five hours at a stretch. And I probably only put the "barely" in because he might read this. (I love you, hon...)

But things scuttle along, as they do. I'm getting PO'd at my fellow teachers-to-be. That's maybe overstating the case, because I'm sure if I wasn't seeing these people in close quarters for thirty hours a week without getting any FREAKING time to myself, I wouldn't want to garrotte them. Several are falling into the "Thank God you weren't my teacher" category, though. Like little Miss Lecture McPreachy, who can't tell you the weather without speaking to you like you're twelve, or Ms. Poo Poo Pouty Pants who is very uncomfortable not knowing the gender of a line-bending student, who never met a lesson plan she liked, and teaching towards gender equity? Feh! and then there's Gloomy Von Grouchy, who's been a substitute teacher for years and these professors can't possibly know what they're talking about. My least favorite though--and here I feel a little guilty, because I'm sure he's very nice as a person although good GOD I'm not sure I could socialize with him--is wee Tentative Um Um. It takes him fifteen minutes to ask a question, he makes me look Type-A organized, he can't look anyone in the eye, and it baffles me how he's ever going to teach high schoolers.

Heh. Fellow students, should you ever find this: I think you're all swell. Really.

Ah well, one more week of classes--four short days--thirty-two hours, although it's twenty-eight if you don't count the lunch break--merely till Thursday at four-ish, and then I no longer have to silently plot death on everyone around me.

At least until September 8, when the students go back to high school.

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