I have a ton to do. This weekend instead of doing anything I would get out of bed, look at the projects that needed doing, and go back into the bedroom where the cats were sleeping, curl up, and read. I tend to call these lost weekends or lost days. They aren’t lost so much as given up. It’s no surprise that I woke up on the salty side of the bed—I don’t even dislike Mondays, I’m just salty today.

Fortunately, I teach teenagers. I’m lucky and blessed and sometimes pushed to my breaking point, but I’ve grown into this vocation. I’m much better at teaching than I used to be. I still have areas of weakness, but I love talking to teenagers, teaching them, getting them to think or to open up their minds a bit.

I have come to loathe articles and headlines and rants about “kids today” or “millennials” or “generation z.” Kids have always had variations on the same issues adults deal with except their voices go unheard in many situations. They aren’t always allowed to enjoy being in transition because we are pushing them forward or they are running ahead, ready for that next step.

I’m not sure gen-x ever did a good job learning to balance peace & quiet with a strong work ethic. We tend to see-saw back and forth, so how can we really teach the next generations to find balance?

Writing is my meditation. I don’t know why I keep trying to find other ways. I have a thirty minute break today between periods two and four; I have grades to enter into the computer and assignments to grade—I am sitting outside in one of the courtyards and breathing and writing and letting my thoughts wander. Do my students know that sometimes it’s okay to stop and breathe? Have I ever taught them that writing isn’t just about communicating with others, that sometimes it’s about communicating with ourselves?

I suppose I should go back inside. I’ll look at the grading that I have to stay and do this afternoon. I’ll appreciate my students. I’ll be a little salty. I’ll have housey chores to do at home.

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