I quit early. I had intended to stay longer, but teaching stopped being fun. I don’t do well at activities that are not fun. Most people don’t and I am sorry for many teachers right now. The level of frantic where test scores are concerned leads to dubious choices on the part of people who should know better, wizards or not. In the end, my position lacked creativity and left little room for laughs.
I keep having to stop myself from seeking employment. The job and the truth are both out there, but I’ll have more luck finding the truth if I don’t return to work. Mulder never found much at the office.
Still, what does one do when not working? Obviously one blogs. I’m happy that eduhonesty.com, the Blog of Gloom and Doom, may break 15,000 registered users soon. I’ve decided to try to put this blog to work, too. I am theoretically scribbling away at a book on education, in part simply to put education behind me, but I need some time to process before I draw any final conclusions — other than “abandon all hope, ye who enter here” anyway.
I hope to record the journey into retirement. Maybe my efforts will be useful to someone else later. But I’ve not made much use of the undiscovered country that is retirement as yet. I’ve cleaned. I’ve organized. I’ve helped the Goodwill considerably.
If this sounds like a post written by a woman inadvertently stranded on Mars, well, sometimes I feel like that woman. Mars can be a rather comfortable place. Today I went upstairs to read and took a nap for no reason. I am thinking of taking up napping. I have taken up walking. A girlfriend and I have made many ovals around a track in Glenview. I am marathoning Babylon 5 with another friend. I am watching The Civil War and lots of British television with Albert. I’ve written a few silly poems, colored a bit, and watched too much court TV, even if those dramas were mostly background noise while I was writing. Every so often, though, I’ll stop to give my full attention to the drama of the sleazy landlord who deserved not to receive his rent or the sad saga of the girl who took the DUI rap for her friend* and wants money for her fines.
So that’s the story on Mars, otherwise known as the Blue Room. Still no zombie sightings. Unless they moan loudly, though, I may miss the undead’s arrival here on Mars. I am not paying a lot of attention to the outside world.
* They met at Alcoholics Anonymous.
