Sort of. Between reading three novels simultaneously, grading, and having at least a vague sense of what I'm doing each day, I barely have time for things like sleeping . . . eating. You know, having a personal life outside the classroom. Laundry occurs when I'm out of underwear. Mail piles up unopened. Calls go unreturned. Dishes? I'll just rinse out yesterday's coffee mug.
My once well-thought-out lesson plans have dwindled down to two to three bullet points in a 1960s-ish lesson plan book. Four bullet points if I'm feeling fancy. And I'm barely keeping my head above water.
Most days feel like doing the dog paddle in the middle of the ocean. I'm trying to get off Gilligan's Island, but I'm pretty exhausted. A ship or helicopter could save me, or I could save myself. Or, I could die trying to find the mainland.
Maybe I should just stay on Gilligan's Island. At least it's entertaining and No Child Left Behind doesn't exist.
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