Sankalpa comes in January, right when I'm doing one of the hardest, most labor-intensive things I do in my job. It's writing report card comments. It takes me forever to write the 250 words on each kid, telling each individual how much and why I value them and what exactly they could do to perform even better in English or Humanities class. I could do it faster, but then I'd do it worse; and that's totally not my way.

I like writing comments best when I spread the job out over a week. I write a quota each day, and then by the due date, I'm finished with no sweaty mad-rush panic. That was my plan this time around, and I was going to write 7 comments a day beginning on Monday. That would leave a bit of a log-jam for the weekend and MLK day, but nothing I couldn't handle with deep breathing and logic.

On Monday, I started, just as I planned, right after school. It was then that I remembered exactly how hard is is to start. The rhythm wasn't coming, and I remembered that in order to really do the job well, I had to look up work artifacts and discuss them specifically. Each comment was taking upwards of 15 minutes. After an hour (4 comments), I gave up for the day.

Not to worry! On Tuesday, I'd get back at it! Things would be easier! I'd cut the time per comment down to 12 minutes. Except on Tuesday, both of my co-teachers were absent and the spoken-word artist I'm hosting in 7th grade missed our class because she was stuck in traffic. I had two meetings, dinner to make, I had to wash my hair, and Shef had his choir concert.

I wrote zero report-card comments.

So, now I'm in the hole. The hole, however, is not that deep. I'm going to be open-hearted (It's a stretch, I know, to apply my Sankalpa to this situation) to the change in schedule. I'm going to take a deep breath and try again to get in the comment-writing zone.

You know what? This isn't that big of a deal. I think I can do it. I've done it before, and it was totally fine.

Looks like, every year at this time of year, I write about report-card comments.

Bragging as an inspirational work strategy. I'll try this today.

Well, it's been tough to start typing, both here and on my fiction writing project. The fiction writing project (okay, let's just start calling it a book, but not The Book, and most definitely not My Stupid BookTM). Anyway, as it currently stands, it's off in my writing teacher's hands for a complete read-through.

I had to send her the revised chapters in the same week as my report card comments were due because, oh my god, poor planning.

Anyway, it's been hard to type anything because:

1. I'm obsessed by the news of our unhinged president. It's much worse than I imagined, as he's actually driven by only narcissism and revenge. I can't stop reading the papers. It seems like the only thing TO do.  I mean, besides march and do my weekly resistance items. And, I guess, pray.

2. The report card comment cycle. After they go out, I inevitably contact and am contacted by families who want to follow up. That's good and normal.

3. I got sick. There's a respiratory pestilence floating around, and despite my fervent protests, I contracted it. I had to stay home from school on Wednesday, which is a pain and which I hate, and now my face has a massive psoriasis outbreak. Because did you know that respiratory infection is a well-documented psoriasis trigger? I mean, really. Teaching with a facial rash is one of my least favorite states in which to teach. I'd rather teach with a stain on my shirt or even my fly down than with red blotches all over my face. I would, however, choose the facial rash over a third pregnancy. Pregnancy is a terrible state in which to teach. Anyway, the only thing to do is acknowledge that I have a facial rash and watch the students study it openly in response to this confirmation.

Get Over It in 3 Acts

It's Still Not Friday (but today it actually is)

Report Card Writing: Finished! I spent time thinking about each student and what I so appreciate about her or him. I wrote that stuff, as well as some suggestions for the future. I simply cannot believe that I have no plans to write report cards next semester, or the semester after that. I can't really picture what my life outside the classroom will look like. We may fear the unknown, but we must venture ever forward. Someone famous must have said that, and that's my plan. But, in addition to the unknown, I think I'll also do something familiar...

Marathon Training: I haven't run 26.2 in five years, but I feel confident that I can do it again. I signed up for our hometown marquee event, the Twin Cities Marathon. In part, I chose this race because it's in the fall, and fall marathons are usually problematic for me because of my day job as a classroom teacher. Now that I do not have that particular day job, it should be easier to keep running come August, and the marathon in early October can be a celebration of my new gig. Maybe it will be my best marathon ever? Or, maybe I'll just cover the distance. Either way is good, and my sister-in-law, Steph, also signed up. Last time I ran a marathon with Steph, it was a total blast.

Writing: I've been telling myself it's fine to not be writing my book or my blog while I do my report cards. Unfortunately (and, of course, THANK GOD), I have now submitted my reports. I have no choice but to go back to my other work. I'm warming up right now, preparing to type some words of my god-awful first draft. I'm dying to return to the beginning of that novel, to make the story make sense and to make some of the chapters not suck; but I think it might be smarter to go push through the end and then have a whole manuscript to revise.

At the very least, I think I should write 10,000 new words before I go back. Let it be so. Ugh.

Work: I'm slightly swamped, but feeling pumped about having finished report card comments.  As you may know from listening to Teach Times Two, the sixth graders started new lit circle books this week Also, we've gotten some positive responses about the sustainable development art installation.  One tough critic said, "It looks a lot better than I thought it would."

Violin: I passed my review of Suzuki Book Four.  "Do all of the adult students in your studio have to memorize the whole book?" I asked my teacher, quizzically.  I've been suspicious about this.  Sure enough, she hemmed and hawed in a way that indicated that her expectations do indeed vary by student.  She did not, however, waive the requirement that I, myself, play from memory.

Fashion: After KonMari-ing my clothes, I discovered that it's been awhile since I've updated my wardrobe.  I signed up for this thing called Stitch Fix. You fill out this style questionaire, and then a stylist sends you five things in the mail that fall within your designated price range.  They also send a pre-paid envelope to return anything you don't want. It's cool.  I made a Pinterest board of things I like, and they looked at it and sent me stuff that matched.  Thrilling.

Old Journal Reading: Tomorrow is #NovelSnip.  Sometimes when I work on the project, I glance at old journals from my late teens.  It's painful.  Today, I read like seven sentences and then had to stop because I was so disgusted by my former self.  I don't recommend keeping or reading old journals unless you someday plan to write a fictional character based on your former, irritating self.  Even then, it's wise to think twice.

I'm a little foggy because we were up with Shef last night. He had a nightmare, which was terrifying for all of us. He had a little seizure fit, throwing himself on the floor and wailing and completely unconsolable. I admit that after twenty minutes of it, the only logical conclusion I could come up with was that he'd developed some form of autism. I decided I had a lot of evidence to back this up, as Shef got his first sub-par report card from school yesterday. He was "having a little trouble listening," a sure sign of autism if I ever heard one.

Once the morning came, things seemed better, and although his teachers say his behavior is becoming decidedly toddlerific, I think he's going to be okay.

And now I'd like to assess my holiday break performance. Here is the list:

Finish the twenty-five-page paper that I ignored during the semester. Hmmm. I'm on page 18, so at least I made progress.

Grade eighty sophomore essays on themes in Black Boy. Done. Totally done, and they are handed back.

Buy new glasses before the 31st, so as to use my flexible dollars before they’re eaten by the powers-that-be. Yep.

Run most days. I'd say it was a satisfactory performance, given all the paper writing.

Stop eating frosting for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Nope. Can't do it.

Return and exchange the holiday gifts that won’t do for whatever reason. Check.

Take Shef to museums and the zoo. He's been completely spoiled, hence the behavior problems at school.

Now, just the paper, and I can move on with my life.

We're here in the homestretch of school year 2017-18.

Here's the story: I have finished and proofed my report card comments. I have emptied my classroom. I have loaded a few belongings on a cart to take on a long drive (3 elevator rides and a trip through the courtyard) to Room 205, where I'll be teaching 3rd grade come fall.

At our assembly, my students reminisced about their favorite moments with me in middle school, which was very sweet. They remembered me leading them in dance moves from High School Musical and also commented that I'm quick with a sticker and a smile. 

I do love stickers.

Bring it on, Summer 2018! Only the Valleyfair trip, Shef's 8th-grade graduation, official high school graduation, and couple of faculty meetings to go.

I can do it, I'm pretty sure.

Here's what's happening right now: I'm writing report card comments.  The kids get narratives.  I love the kids, but writing the narratives one after the other is a real challenge. 

I know I should do this differently.  Like, maybe I should take little notes at the end of each week and then use them for my comments?  Would that save time and make the comments better?  Do I need to have my final grades done in order to write the comments?

Do you have any suggestions?

Maybe I'm back in the saddle for the last few days of the month. Last night, we had Humanities Family Night, so that's over.

I've been dragging like crazy this week.  We're writing report card comments, interviewing candidates for teaching positions, zooming in toward a yearbook deadline, starting a new curricular unit on human rights...

Last week, we had a conference with Shef’s teacher. Since our almost-four-year-old just graduated to the next class, this was a farewell meeting of sorts.

Teacher Les started the conference by showing us three of Shef’s art pieces, all of which pretty much sucked. I mean, really. It’s obvious the kid couldn’t care less about painting, coloring, or pasting items in an artful manner. Coloring in the lines? Just forget about it.

“I would be worried about his fine motor skills,” said Les, “except he also did this.” He handed us a couple of sheets where Shef had traced the numbers 1-20, written out his name a few times, and circled letters representing the initial sounds of several pictures.

Art apathy was also the reason Shef got “Often” instead of “Always” on the report card measure that read, “I get involved in and attend to activities.”

He also got “Often” on “I make good use of my free time,” (duh) and “I seek only my fair share of the teacher’s attention.”

On that last one, Dan and I burst out laughing. Because obviously, we know that Shef never stops talking to or otherwise interacting with adults. Ever. Not even in his sleep.

So, what happened was I had to write the report card narratives.  This is something we do twice per year, and it is extremely time consuming.  I produced a total 32 pages of text about 84 students.  I woke up at 5:15 each morning to write.  I finally finished at 10:30 last night. 

Now I'm ready to get back to my blogging life.  I also need to READ my fave blogs.  Friends, never fear!  I'm sending comments your way pronto.

Maybe the end of the school year is like falling off a horse. This metaphor came to me as my friend Erin described being hurtled over the head of her horse a couple of years ago. She'd been going at a full run on a horse called Sparkle, a prospect I can now attest would be terrifying. I know it would be terrifying because I trotted on some horses this weekend with Erin as my supervisor.

Trotting is fast enough.

Anyway, when Erin fell off the horse, sailing over its head in death-defying fashion, Sparkle had suddenly stopped short.

When school ends, you're similarly going at full speed. Writing report card comments, grading, cleaning your room, cobbling together thank you notes, basically holding on for dear life. Then school stops, and your body goes hurtling forward with nothing to check it. You land in a heap, possibly broken and bleeding.

That hurtle is coming. I'm trying to put some foam pads in place. Soft landing. You know.

We're in Vail, Colorado. This is Dan's dream, as we've been here many times in the winter, but never in the summer, and he's indeed dreamt of seeing it  in the summer.  I'm out-of-this-world happy because I was raised on out-west mountain vacations.  Of course, in my time, we got in the Dodge Ram Conversion and drove 12 hours at a time, my brother Kevin and I sprawling on the floor without seatbelts.

That's not the way Dan rolls.  We flew into Denver yesterday and rented a Ford Expedition, which is huge and requires safety.

We're in a fab VRBO with our bosom pals, Adam and Tracy and their three kids. Today we spent the whole day at a mountain-top adventure park with zip lines, ropes courses, and alpine slides. We're all tired and tan and ready for a chill evening of Netflix and hot-tubbing and of course, the card game that Adam and I generally lose but pretend to win.  Things could be so, so much worse.

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