the dream of the serrated knife

More of the random:

- After today, eleven student contact days, two of which are exams. I feel steam rolled. Grading is beginning to reach an even clip, and I might actually get everything back by the end of the week, though this is incredibly wishful thinking. I am plowing though, determined to close out this school year without great stress. Just great exhaustion, as it always goes. ("Seriously, are you going to offer more extra credit?") ("Um, is there any way I can pass?")

- Last night I dreamt a serrated knife had burrowed into my skin, grinding against the small of my back. In the dream, Ryan was telling me the only way was to pull it out, that we couldn't remove it any other way but to press it through my skin, my muscle, that it would be narrow enough and would hurt, but at least it would stop cutting my lower back like a steak. I woke up, pained, sleeping on my stomach. I can move about a bit faster today; the soreness has dissipated. But yesterday, every time I stood up, I had an invisible line reclining me back down, bits of me crying out in protest.

- I will not miss lockdown drills. We had one this afternoon during my prep hour, and it was phrased something like, "Attention staff, there is a situation in the cafeteria. Please lock all doors." Of course, my imagination began to bat about, forgetting that it is the beginning of the hour, prime time for a drill, and late spring (competing with early autumn as the best time for drills--tomorrow, fire). I listened intently, huddled on the floor, Humanities tests in my lap, listening to booming sounds, trying to determine if it was the special ed class down the hall or truly a lockdown situation. We're fine, of course; just when I forget and feel safe in the classroom, I am reminded of random calamities and how dangerous a school can be.

- New York Times: Someone else must find a house to fit the book collection and how to get the most out of your vegetables.