Why I'm Tired

(If I were the divine Madeline Kahn, I would set this to music and do a Dietrich impression, but these spindly little letters are the best I can manage just now.)

 

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*We just finished our second Parents' Weekend at WFS; the first was two weekends ago.  Both of them involve Friday-afternoon games (or climbing demonstrations, in the case of our Rapidan program), Friday-night class presentations for the assembled parents, our usual Saturday-morning classes, and late-Saturday-morning conferences with the parents of individual students.  They're a little exhausting.

*I have been on dorm duty for two of those Parents' Weekends--Friday this time and Sunday last time--as well as on duty on the Saturday in between.  Dorm duty puts you on call all day, starting at breakfast (7:15-7:50 a.m.), with the added responsibility of monitoring the dorms during study hall (7:45-10:00 p.m.) and the check-in/lights out period (10:00-11:00 p.m.)  If I'm lucky, a duty day runs from 7:30 a.m. to about 11:20 p.m.

*Two weekends ago, I was working on students' marking period grades and comments, which were due on Monday at noon.  Last weekend I was furiously grading midterm tests, which I wanted to hand back to my English students on Monday at 8:00 and 8:45.  This past weekend I was furiously grading the second drafts of my speech students' oratories, which they needed to have back so they could work on them in class Saturday morning.  My hand hurts.

*Tuesday I climbed a mountain (Old Rag) with our Rapidan outdoor team.  The Tuesday before that I climbed a smaller mountain (Little Stony Man) so I could set up and supervise a rock-climbing session.

*I've been fighting off what may be the same old respiratory crap I was fighting off at the start of school, popping guaifenesin (Why have I hever heard of this drug before this year?) and sounding like Thurl Ravenscroft.  I felt bad enough last week to go home directly after class, skipping dinner and a meeting on Wednesday and dinner and an assembly on Thursday.  (Assemblies on any night but Monday are bad; they usually mean someone's being dismissed from school.)

*Last weekend the first issue of our school newspaper, the Oracle, had its first deadline.  As I was somehow talked into serving as co-advisor of the paper this year, the deadline meant I got to have several last-minute meetings with panicky students and/or faculty.  The good news is that the paper appeared on Friday, with only three noticeable errors, only one of them egregious.  (The same photo of a faculty member appeared twice--once when it was supposed to be a pic of a student.)

*Yesterday and two Saturdays ago, we had home football games, for which I'm now serving as the public address announcer.  It's not that hard, if your throat is working properly, but it's yet another commitment of two-plus hours during the weekend.

The good news is that during these somewhat intense few weeks, I've been able to keep up a more-or-less regular schedule at the gym, so I've gone roughly three months with a thrice-or-more-weekly exercise routine.  I may not be able to breathe or talk well, but I'm at least feeling relatively strong and spry.  I've also finished reading Ian McEwan's Enduring Love, which is a wonderful, unsettling novel deserving of a title that sounds less like a Lionel Richie song or a Hallmark Theater presentation.  I've finished watching the second season of The Office (the BBC's original version of the show--I haven't seen the American version) and learned its theme song (Rod Stewart's "Handbags and Gladrags") on the piano.  I've taken a new route up Old Rag--the considerably less strenuous Berry Hollow trail, which comes up the southwestern face and involves far less scrambling over bare rock than the exciting but exhausting Ridge Trail to the east.

And, god help me, I've learned what it means to have a teenager with a girlfriend: a busy signal, more or less interminably.

But the long drought finally broke after three straight rainy days, the leaves are turning, the temperature is dropping, and I have a cup of coffee and the prospects of a relaxed day of NFL viewing.  I'm tired, but I'm not yet worn down.

Talk to me again after the Bonfire...

 

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This page contains a single entry by Peter Cashwell published on October 28, 2007 8:06 AM.

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