quarter 1: survived

Today we officially depart from the first quarter at Local High School. Grades have been updated, entered, organized. I have a set of quizzes from Wednesday (I don't grade on my birthday, I told my students), but otherwise, I am caught up.

We had meetings this afternoon, including a lengthy one with the English department, confused, as many of the ones at our Old High School could be when we discussed curriculum mapping. Same idea--frustration and confusion, not understanding how this was any different from the other forms from previous years, etc. Miscommunications. But heated moments, strange to bear witness, a hazy look at the dynamic, the undercurrent, that is this school. A first quarter and relief that I am only a visitor here, paid to teach, sit in, plod on in a nomadic fashion.

I am working on a villanelle. I wonder: what world language sounds the most mournful? I'm not sure if I will use it or not, but I am thinking of sounds that are full of sadness--the cello, keening, the howl of the wind, an empty humming. What sounds feel hollow, feel as if the place where you heart is has been scooped out, now a cave?

Today's stream of consciousness, as I liked the cadence of the birthday post:

I like jam but not jelly. My favorite desert is bread--zucchini, banana, with cream cheese. I love toast with butter and jam. I love fruit but don't eat it nearly enough because I crave salty things the most. I take naps many afternoons after school; last night, I had trouble falling asleep and slept fitfully, dreaming of infidelity. I told Husband sometimes we dream of the things we fear the most, and I don't know if I've ever been more grateful than when I wake up from a terrible dream--the one where my father died when a ceiling tile fell at the university pool, the one where Husband has decided he no longer loves me and flippantly leaves me for someone else (this, recurring), the one where I may have been unfaithful myself, the natural disaster dreams where I'm afraid I cannot protect my pets (imagine when I have children).