Monday

I hate coming back to work after a holiday.

My kids are either way too quiet or way too hyper, depending mostly on how much sleep they got last night. I've sent two of them to the office for speaking out, and also the rude nature of what they were saying. My desk, which was spotless on the afternoon before the holiday, is once again covered with stuff, some junk, some important, some needing attention they're unlikely to get.

I've just found out that I have to rework my literacy plans for the whole week because lit groups are cancelled tomorrow. If I have enough warning, this can be a good thing, but this is not enough warning. I'll dig something up to do with the social studies lesson from today. (I taught them about pre-history, hunter-gatherer societies, and how nomads became settled peoples. It was a really cool lesson, actually. The problem I left them with was interesting: Imagine you're a herder in the ancient world, before the invention of writing. You've received a messenger from another herder three days' walk west of you, asking to buy eight cows. The problem is, you don't trust this messenger, and you don't have anyone else you can send. It's too far to go yourself since you have no one to leave with your herds. How can you make sure the messenger isn't cheating you? I'll be interested to see what they come up with.)

I've been asked by my principal to become the lead literacy teacher for the junior division. This is good; added responsibility, yes, but also added professional development which will mostly occur during the school day. I think I got chosen because one other person turned it down, but I can't be sure. In any case, I would be going to most of the inservices anyway because I'm not up-to-date on a lot of the literacy initiatives; so much stuff was released during my mat leave or while I was teaching a different age group. So this simply means I go to in-services I wouldn't normally be eligible for.

One of my kids went on Ritalin or something similar today. I haven't been told this by anyone; the difference in his behaviour today was so marked, I asked two other teachers who know him to watch him during the assembly, and they both confirmed that he was much, much more settled than usual. The parent is testing me to see if I'll notice a change, probably. So about Wednesday, I'll call home and let her know how happy I am with his behaviour - he's working so well this week! I wonder if she'll come clean about the meds? Frankly, whether she does or not, the fact that they're there will be a positive change. It's enough to know that SOMETHING has changed.

I have to figure out what kind of busy work to create for the non-lit period tomorrow. *sigh* I've got a chapter clamouring to get out of my brain, but I'll have to tell it to be quiet for a few hours yet.

Chapters playing tag

I had a chapter concept earlier in the day. Now it's gone. I have approximately one hour in which I could possibly get something done on it, and the muse has left the building.

There are days, like today, when I hate being a slave to clocks, especially clocks that involve bells to divide up my day into headache-inducing class segments. I would have been much happier today to call in sick, stay home, and write. I would have accomplished a lot. Unfortunately, my day job is not the kind where being away is easy or comfortable. For that matter, I don't know of many jobs where that happens. I wish I could find one that paid well, though.

I just looked over the outlines I did yesterday for the next few chapters. They're good. They include everything that needs to be there up to the battle with the Dreamcarver. I'm thinking, though, that I shouldn't have written them. My general outline has become too prescriptive and it's fencing me in. I need to be able to take things out of the context of the book and just write scenes. If I know ahead of time exactly where the scene is going, that ceases to work.

I have a funny feeling I'm not going to write a word until Saturday. At least, not of my book. All my creativity seems to have been poured into a cool pre-history lesson. There's none left for the rest of my life.

I wonder if there will ever come a time in my life when I will be able to write seriously, for a good chunk of time every week, without having to hold down a full-time job to pay the bills? At this moment, it doesn't seem likely, but at this moment, I'm tired, my throat is sore and I'm feeling less creative than I have since before I started the book.

I think I'd be happy teaching part-time and writing the other part, if I could. I'd probably prefer teaching two or three days a week, supply, rather than an actual class for only half a day. The very idea of having six or more hours of creative time at a stretch has me in agonies of longing.

It's just about time to put the baby to bed. I think I'll follow soon after. This kind of mood is best put down as soon as possible.