Writing out my thoughts.
There is something soothing about sitting down and writing something out in long hand. Being able to watch the pen-stroke place my thoughts on the page, not having to switch to some hybrid because cursive is no longer in the required curriculum, and not actually watching things take shape unlike now when I type. But also in having the time to do it since I write rather slow and try to pay mind to each letter and word; more so than when i type since a pristine letter looks so much better than one with numerous stricken errors, and unlike typing it can't simply be deleted. I've actually come to miss it since it is a rare occasion for me to have a reason for it. Then again I could always find excuses for bringing a pen to paper, perhaps write more letters to friends since we have all went out separate ways. There is also the possibility of keeping a proper journal which I have said I would do time and again.
Finally there is always the chance of going back to writing out my poetry in a notebook or in the margins of notes like I did throughout college. I miss writing it (my poetry) but at the same time i'm not really sure what write about any more when it comes to that. I enjoyed writing about nature and the rain because I spent so much time camping and connected to it. There were places that I knew and could go for walks; parks, trails, lakes and rock cliffs that were more inviting than anything that I know of now. I actually haven't been back to the lake since i graduated from West Georgia, or been camping since I started teaching over a year and half ago. Though there were times i felt lonely then, which has been a reoccurring feeling all too much recently, when I came home from those walks or from camping it wasn't as strong. There was something about the trees and water that made me feel more at home or welcome. Which considering that I've already used several pieces of paper writing this and several other things, seems ever so slightly hypocritical. As for the rest of my poems that stemmed from something else, most likely the relationships that I don't really have anymore. but to be honest, looking back I can't really say; the only constant in them back then was that I knew Pamela would read them and most likely write her own. Knowing someone would read it made a difference. Now though, despite the last twenty-five or so of my poems garnering no audience, I still find that I miss it.
Perhaps it's the chance for reflection that connects the things that I've written about so far, or have been missing the opportunity to do lately. After all each of them require time and are usually periods without rushing or deadlines; none of them require looking down the road to five months or a year from now and weighting options and consequences. Then again it may just be that all of them have a slower pace and I can be a bit more lethargic while enjoying them.
During the week, when I'm teaching, it seems that everything is constantly going and changing; it a race from one thing to the next. A group of thirty-four students to two groups of thirty-five, from lesson plans and copies to grading 104 papers and preparing for a government issued exam. Throw in keeping a clean apartment, preparing for the GRE I have to retake, and researching graduate programs while also filling out the applications, and it's no wonder why the week makes it unlikely for me to read through the collections of mythology, theology, and other stories that are all queued up.Still even with so much more to do with the larger classes and stricter standards this school year has started much smoother than the last two. enough so that I am starting to wonder if it might turn back around; though I doubt it will run any less contrary to my personality with the way students have changed since I was in school. I'm reminded of that each time a student causes me to wonder if manners and respect are endangered ideas. Much like chivalry or writing out long strings of though on paper at one in the morning, like old fashioned letters that you mail or using cell phones to call someone rather text or tweet them instead. Then again it has reached a point where we were reminded that "We don't teach respect, discipline, courtesy, and accountability. We don't have an approved curriculum for it and it is nto in the government's standard testing." when a teacher was written up for spending 'unnecessary' time teaching these to students and not using the time provided for 'proper instruction'. I've received my own warning when pausing several times to redirect student behavior, though nothing formal has come from it.
There's more that I want to write about, but seeing as how there's only a few hours before the sun rises and only one or so after that before it's back to the rush of the week, I suppose this is where I'll stop for now. Maybe I'll take a chance to finish the thoughts tomorrow before they fade entirely. See if we can fill another three sheets before typing it up and posting it at some late hour. Or maybe this will be the last post here for a while and I'll go back to writing in my other two.
Finally there is always the chance of going back to writing out my poetry in a notebook or in the margins of notes like I did throughout college. I miss writing it (my poetry) but at the same time i'm not really sure what write about any more when it comes to that. I enjoyed writing about nature and the rain because I spent so much time camping and connected to it. There were places that I knew and could go for walks; parks, trails, lakes and rock cliffs that were more inviting than anything that I know of now. I actually haven't been back to the lake since i graduated from West Georgia, or been camping since I started teaching over a year and half ago. Though there were times i felt lonely then, which has been a reoccurring feeling all too much recently, when I came home from those walks or from camping it wasn't as strong. There was something about the trees and water that made me feel more at home or welcome. Which considering that I've already used several pieces of paper writing this and several other things, seems ever so slightly hypocritical. As for the rest of my poems that stemmed from something else, most likely the relationships that I don't really have anymore. but to be honest, looking back I can't really say; the only constant in them back then was that I knew Pamela would read them and most likely write her own. Knowing someone would read it made a difference. Now though, despite the last twenty-five or so of my poems garnering no audience, I still find that I miss it.
Perhaps it's the chance for reflection that connects the things that I've written about so far, or have been missing the opportunity to do lately. After all each of them require time and are usually periods without rushing or deadlines; none of them require looking down the road to five months or a year from now and weighting options and consequences. Then again it may just be that all of them have a slower pace and I can be a bit more lethargic while enjoying them.
During the week, when I'm teaching, it seems that everything is constantly going and changing; it a race from one thing to the next. A group of thirty-four students to two groups of thirty-five, from lesson plans and copies to grading 104 papers and preparing for a government issued exam. Throw in keeping a clean apartment, preparing for the GRE I have to retake, and researching graduate programs while also filling out the applications, and it's no wonder why the week makes it unlikely for me to read through the collections of mythology, theology, and other stories that are all queued up.Still even with so much more to do with the larger classes and stricter standards this school year has started much smoother than the last two. enough so that I am starting to wonder if it might turn back around; though I doubt it will run any less contrary to my personality with the way students have changed since I was in school. I'm reminded of that each time a student causes me to wonder if manners and respect are endangered ideas. Much like chivalry or writing out long strings of though on paper at one in the morning, like old fashioned letters that you mail or using cell phones to call someone rather text or tweet them instead. Then again it has reached a point where we were reminded that "We don't teach respect, discipline, courtesy, and accountability. We don't have an approved curriculum for it and it is nto in the government's standard testing." when a teacher was written up for spending 'unnecessary' time teaching these to students and not using the time provided for 'proper instruction'. I've received my own warning when pausing several times to redirect student behavior, though nothing formal has come from it.
There's more that I want to write about, but seeing as how there's only a few hours before the sun rises and only one or so after that before it's back to the rush of the week, I suppose this is where I'll stop for now. Maybe I'll take a chance to finish the thoughts tomorrow before they fade entirely. See if we can fill another three sheets before typing it up and posting it at some late hour. Or maybe this will be the last post here for a while and I'll go back to writing in my other two.