Lee's blogging about Action and Adventure this month, so I'm doing it, too. It seems like it's going to be fun.

My big Saturday adventure is more of a quiet sort. I'm catching up on some reading. And yes, I'm beginning the ADVENTURE challenge with kind of a whisper, but I think we can all agree that reading surely qualifies. I've already learned about CAR-T cells today and a movie called The Farewell. And, I read a short story that might make the reader re-think what she knows about love and marriage. That same story also made me think about craft and literary elements and what a writer can get by with, depending on his aims.

All of these adventurous thoughts sprang from my reading of The New Yorker. Many times, I've thought about how I both love and loathe The New Yorker. I like being the sort of person who gets a paper copy of this iconic publication in the mail every week. My dad re-ups my subscription annually, so it's not even something I choose; it's just part of me.

Even so, I almost never actually read The New Yorker.  I've been able to let go of the guilt about this at various moments and stages, like when I'm a full-time teacher and parenting some crazy busy kids 24/7.

But, now I'm supposed to be a full-time writer, and I'm supposed to be literary AF. So, reading a couple of New Yorker articles--we're not even aiming for cover-to-cover--shouldn't be that big of a problem. Soon, the kids will be back in school and maybe I can make a magazine ritual. An article with my matcha on Tuesday mornings, for example, and another one in the late-afternoon lull on Fridays.

Adventures can be momentous and also sort of regular. I guess I'm starting with the latter.

I've been ignoring this blog, since I've had nothing to write on it. I do feel bad about not writing. The guilt is overwhelming, actually.

I was going to post on Saturday while I was at work. Working. On my part-time job.

But then I didn't.

The problem with September blogging is that I usually forget about the intensity of the beginning of the year, and how it sucks me dry, no matter what level of FTE I'm embodying. I forget about it until I'm smack dab in the middle of it, barely keeping my head above water and straining to stay awake past nine every night. This year, I'm only supposed to be just a little more than half-time, but so far I'm working kind of a lot. So far, I'm definitely in that "dear Lord, deliver me from this madness" kind of place.

One example of me working a lot so far was open house, which was from 6:45-9:00 on a Monday night. I'm usually quite good at doing open house, and the parents generally like me. I do it well so that later in the year when their kids come home saying, "God, Ms. W. is such a bitch," their parents will think this is a total lie.

Anyway, at this year's open house, I got kind of flustered in my first talk. I think it was because the parents mostly didn't laugh at my of opening jokes. Also there were some people there whom I knew to be somewhat disapproving of the literature selections I've made for their children. And, lots of people seemed to be scowling at me. Only one that I saw was nodding and smiling.

Still, I persevered. I made it through the talk with just moderate voice-wavering and, of course, the requisite sweat attack. Luckily, I was wearing a jacket, so as to avoid any potential sweat rings and classroom b.o. contamination.

In the break between the first and second talks, I went out to the hall to commiserate with my pals.

"It was kind of rough," I said.

"Yeah Kace," Rachel replied,"you have HIVES."

And sure enough. I did.

That's the whole story. Fini.

Can't you see why I haven't been posting here?

I had to have a sub, and all of my classes were perfect except one group of enriched sophs.

That one group told the sub that they didn’t have to pick up their trash because the janitor would do it for them. They also told her that presentation skills didn’t matter in the projects they were doing (a lie), and so a couple of boys did their talk while lying on their backs, kicking their legs. They also played their videos in slow motion because the group slated to go after them wanted to stall one more day.

Some other kids refused to give the sub information about the activity they were requiring of the class. She wrote to me that “the class has a lot to learn about self-control.” When she told the kids she’d never seen anything like their behavior in all 30 years of teaching and subbing at the high school, they told her that maybe they were acting that way because their teacher wasn’t there.

It’s fair to say I was less than pleased.

A letter was written and read to the class expressing my distinct displeasure. The letter was designed to elicit maximum guilt. The letter included information about the dangers of by-standers: if you think I'm not speaking to you, the letter said, you better think again.

The letter said that the sub report reflected a failure of the whole. The whole certainly included me, the letter said, because I had made the mistake of trusting them with too much independence.

And so we go to 9. Days, of course. I’ve decided I’ll forgive them when they work up the guts to speak to me.