This appears to be ending. A round of Weather is headed my way. It's not "snow day" weather, at least not yet. There's the possibility of something later but, for now, it's just drizzly, soggy and moving towards winter again.
Weather has a way of affecting a classroom. Low pressure is not a friend to those of us who work with the younger set and it tinkers with the delicate balance of power between Us and Them. To make matters worse, it slows cognition markedly
To put it mildly, we were all stumbling around today. It wasn't pretty.
The Cheerful Teaching Assistant, perky under most circumstances, returned to school this morning but was still feeling the effects of jet lag after her whirlwind London excursion. I started off strong, but faded quickly as the dismal weather closed in. The boy who is Gauged And Aerodynamic lasted through math class then had to go lie down. He could barely keep his eyes open and was rapidly losing much of his aerodynamic personae. The Stalker (who has followed me since fourth grade and through three schools) was cursed by having his required Triennial Assessments scheduled for today and we had to forgive his mood. It's not his fault that federal regulations require this kind of thing no matter what the weather.
Frankly, the only one who had his act together at all was The Great Debater and don't think he didn't know it. He was the King Of Logic today and owned us all.
I think that He Who Needs A Nicotine Patch By Noon had it the worst, though. On the best of days, he is grumpy as the lunch hour approaches. He tries, bless his heart. But sometimes the pressure of the educational system and his faulty sleep patterns have their way with him. Not to mention the fact that the average middle school doesn't offer a smoking section.
All this could go a long way towards explaining why my class ended up talking about donuts today. I know that we started with a science class. I distinctly remember planning their projects. How we got to snack foods, I have no idea. It just seemed to...happen. One minute we're doing that for which I get paid and the next HWNANPBN was trying to explain which of the donuts was his favorite.
He'd been trying for some time, but just couldn't find the right words to describe this confection. He told of the color (dark brown). He told of the texture (chewy unless it's stale but it's still good). He told us exactly where it is placed in the box as compared to the others (two in from the right and close to the center).
But we still weren't getting it. He couldn't get the true wonder of this donut imprinted upon our brains. By this time, he was leaning helplessly against the window, framed by the shimmering rains that fell in sympathy with his plight. He even beat his head slightly against the glass as if to somehow jar loose the right words.
Finally, with eyes shut tight and with hands clenched into fists he cried out:
They're just so GOOD! They taste...they taste like...THEY TASTE LIKE LOVE!!!!!!!
And that, gentle readers, is the definition of Donut Devotion. There is no higher praise. I only wish I could think of something in my own life for which I felt such passion.
I'm trying to work up the same sort of feeling for that sock I'm knitting. I like it. Don't get me wrong. It will probably come in handy now that winter is coming back. I have an affection for the sock.
But it will never taste like love...