The Pattern

I've been at the new job long enough that I'm falling into a comfortable pattern. I read the kiddie book(s), I agonize for about a half-day over what skill to teach using the text(s), I fill in simple parts of the lesson plan template like the vocabulary charts, and I write some test questions and fart around staring out my window and listening to Ravi Shankar and refusing to start working.

Then, in one day, I'll write two full lesson plans in a burst of crazy incandescent activity. Then, the slow unproductive agonizing begins again, only to be interrupted briefly by a flurry of editing when I get the first drafts back.

I spend a lot of time half-slacking, allowing stuff to churn over in my head. My kind of job.

Today looking out the window has an odd twist. In the last few weeks I've only ever seen blue jays and mourning doves fly by. Today there are hundreds of bugs--lady bugs, lightning bugs, beetles, bees, mosquitos, and even a wasp--crashing into my window over and over. Some are crawling around on the outside of the glass maniacally. I can hear them clacking their mandibles. I guess it's the unusal warmth today after what seemed like the undeniable commencement of perpetual cool weather last week. Or, they want to eat me.