Monday, April 12, 2010

Interlude--Tony Montana

I really, really love teaching. I do. But it's a job that takes a ridiculous amount of hours; that is, if you want to do your job well. My curse is that I love my job. If I didn't, I could see myself pulling a 9 to 5 (err...7:30-3:30) and being out the door, but nope, not when the job consumes you (in a good way). Dang it, I hate my job that I love.
In this bubble of grading, worrying about grading, lesson planning (and not doing my dunk workout!), physical outlets--hoops, running, lifting--are so necessary, but they are often the first to be neglected.
In that particular teacher-funk brought on by a weekend in which very little recreation was had, very much fretting over grading was done, and comparatively little grading was done, followed by a day in which I'm still grading at 8:57 pm, I gotta let a little Tony Montana out...

Is this it? Is this what's it's all about? Eating on the run, drinking, grading, correcting? You're eating this microwaved stuff, you haven't exercised in days, you got spaghetti sauce on the World War II essay. Your youth is there but lays idle like a tarpcovered car. So, say goodnight to the bad guy. The one who talks a big game but doesn't train as much as he should, who doesn't give you as much scintillating description of the quest to dunk a ornage oval as you were expecting from this oddly-titled blog...
In the words of Don Fannuci from The Godfather, Part II: "Tomorrow. Always tomorrow."

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