There are certain things I miss about my pre-teacher life.  Mainly, sleeping in and watching daytime television, but those don’t both me on a consistent basis like these do.

First of all, the time and inclination to read.  I used to read ALL the time.  ALL THE TIME.  Books were my sustenance and nothing was better than curling up with one and staying up all night finishing it.  Right now, I don’t have time, but even when I have time–like over Christmas break, I can’t bring myself to do it very often.  I don’t know if it’s teaching or R. who has somehow changed me into someone who doesn’t feel like they’re doing something unless they are moving.  So, every time I sit to read I am instead thinking about all the other things I should be doing.  It’s hard to sit and enjoy, and it’s even harder to pick up new books because I don’t have time to waste on bad ones.

Which is the same exact reason I no longer write very often.  Writing used to be the salve that soothed the savage beast.  I used to get lost in worlds I created, or put important information in coherent sentences.  I seem to have lost the inclination and the talent for this.  In trying to find some examples for class, I was looking through some of my old academic writing.  I miss it.  I miss thinking and analyzing and all that went along with being an English major.  I thought being an English teacher would be an extension of that, but it’s not–at least not with the group of students I’ve had this year.

So, I am actually a little bit excited about the class I am taking this semester.  I have to write part of my thesis (EVEN THOUGH I DO NOT HAVE TO WRITE A THESIS TO GET MY MASTERS).  I am a little irritated that it will basically be a waste, but it will feel good to write again with a purpose and an analytical mind.  Oh, will it feel good.

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