Today, a perfect Friday, ends the first quarter of the school year. This means I had to make two trips from my classroom to my residence, carrying a big box and bag of response notebooks - which I was going to read gradually throughout this past week (well, I can dream, can't I?) - and I did manage to get some done but ran out of steam at 8:32 last night.

As I type, a football game begins over on our field. It's Carmel versus JCA. I am not there for reasons I don't want to go into now, but being pretty tired is a part of it. I guess Carmel is not supposed to win, since JCA is (I think) undefeated so far. I don't know much about football.

These days, school is everything. There is no other life. (The day had perfect weather. I know this because I used the outside path from house to school. But aside from this tiny experience, the natural world may as well not exist. I get none of it. And I miss it.) Classes went well all week, I think. Have you read Frederick Douglass's Narrative lately? or The Canterbury Tales? or Momaday's The Way to Rainy Mountain? This is the rich stuff in which I get to wallow, splatter my students, every day. I am a very lucky guy.