The classroom is increasingly packed, hot, smelly, and chaotic each day. Everything is out of whack, but I’m a master of illusion. No, that’s not it. A master of diversion, perhaps. Yeah, that. Everything is going just fine. Really.
Does the end of every year feel so weird?
My classroom is a sauna inside a jungle. Or the reverse. So when I left work today the wet outside air felt like autumn. The seasons go ’round like a coil, and the coil is tightening, each turn nearly indistinguishable from the next.
The cicadas started buzzing in April, and we never even saw winter.
And now I’m in the mood for fall—one with a long ass vacation.