Awkward, complicated, difficult night. S/M’s iPod was allegedly stolen. I spent most of the night asking questions, interpreting answers, trying to assess with the wisdom of Solomon. I wanted to talk to some more, but it’s after midnight, and I don’t want to call her.
At 10:45p, after the kids were supposed to be in bed for an hour, I got as far as picking up the phone. Then Peanut Butter and Roman Catholic and SadoMasochist came in. They wanted their palms read. I usually do the party tricks later in the year, but I need some connections with these two, so I got out the cards and read. One by one, the other kids on the floor drifted in. There’s something about the act of reading cards in this place that draws them. If I believed all the time in psychic phenomena, I’d swear they were alerted by some invisible alarm. Eight readings, one after the other, with all the kids looking on.
The readings were dark; they were powerful. Most times I do this, I get very positive, very generally happy readings. These were not. Lots of mixed messages. Lots of confusion, lots of sense of decisions put off or deliberately left vague, lots of indecision. Lots of strong cards in strong positions, lots of court cards and major arcana. I had almost used Crowley’s design-deck, decided against it at the last minute. I’m glad; the Rider-Waite cards were hard enough on some of the kids. Roman Catholic got the Death card in the final-outcome position in his reading; he insisted on a second reading, and I said, “this is you,” before flipping over the first card — and it came up the Devil. The phone rang then, but you go with the freakout taking place in front of you (sorry ) sometimes.
The rest of his cards were about owning up to responsibility and changing external direction by changing internal attitude and resolving emotional indecision. Hmmm.
And suddenly it’s 12:30 in the morning. Wednesday was going to be a long day today, I knew that. I wish I’d known just how long, though; maybe I would have skipped a duty and taken a nap this afternoon. Not likely. There were kids in every detention period I covered. All the gloss of spring break has worn away, and the weather outside is beautiful — homework is not being done, kids are using spitballs and chewing gum, and the end of school is still months away. The speaker on April 9 at the conference said, “April is the cruelest month because for teachers, by then most of the hope is gone. Routine and procedure is all you have to fall back on.”
On a positive note, Wednesday Conversations on teaching continue to be a success. Total Warfare did a great job this morning, talking about his beginnings as a teacher in his father’s boarding school. At mid-morning we discussed classroom ritual and procedure. In the evening Tough Understanding, his wife, and I grilled Broken Laughter on his teaching style. It was all very cool, amazing and impressive. I’m glad to be conducting these sessions. It’s really amazing me what fine colleagues I have, and I hope this program helps me get to know them better.
I even got another four or five thousand words on my white wolf project finished. And I made a map while I was lecturing some kids who were sent to detention.
The routine and the procedure are getting thrown to the dogs now. And I need to go to bed.