When I left class, I had an idea to write about. I made my way upstairs stopping only at the restroom. Lunch did me in. I spent the next hour online looking for my 8th grade English teacher, thanking my husband for making lunch and generally feeling like a slug. Did I great job getting students elbow-deep in the syllabus, gave a diagnostic quiz, refocused attention more than once, prayed for a student who requested it though the prayers had already been sent up at 5 this morning as Intercessory Prayer resumed. Didn’t get the freewriting in. Am pretty certain folks will not consult the assignment schedule to see what more than the chapter on quizzes needs to be completed before Monday. They did not, after all, realize that I was truly asking for yesterday’s freewriting word count, and so gave me Mondays – at least that is all members of the class but two. Did a deft job of putting in my two cents as folks translated their page of the syllabus and still, I feel something akin to a failure. I’ll get out of here soon and hope the funk leaves with but takes a different car.
I thought yesterday’s playing chicken in the parking lot also bears mentioning. There’s no greater test of obedience than hearing a word meant for your ears only and waiting, faithfully until it comes to pass. In my case, I heard a word directing me which road to turn down and which row to wait in. Did both of those without question until about the fourth car swerved around me. Eyes heavy. Must sleep. Suffice it to say, I outlasted my ego and got the parking space desired. Now if only I could do likewise in higher stakes waiting matches.