This Weekend

Fifty-one narrative essays between four and five pages long, in need of edits and a grade; not exactly what I want to be doing, but at least I'm at home where I want to be, doing something I like, at least to a point.
Besides this 'que hacer' that needs doing, as I get this part of my duties finished, others pile up in the inbox; a full day of EHS student work has to be gone over, checked and commented on.

Tomorrow morning, mostly because I know how my mind works through these situations, I'll probably hurriedly compile some sort of plan to supplement the day's writing that needs doing at the residential treatment center where I teach a couple of Arts and Humanities classes. It'll work, it'll be just fine; but not exactly what I'd like to make of the classes. I used to have time and resources for real fine arts activities like painting and pottery, especially at the high school I was able to work at before it shut down. But that's really not a possibility right now in these classrooms. Lessons and activities work out very well sometimes, but at others, because of my own workload and constrictions on time and resources, things aren't ideal.
I'll chip slowly away at what remains of those essays over the next couple of days, stopping from time to time to check on developments and those oh-so-important questions and inquiries on EHS and whatnot, and best of all, to push the Miya on the tree swing or talk with Drie. Then, I'll make myself start again on what has to be finished in order to keep the semester's order of operations moving forward right now, the editing and grading of narrative essays.
It's a darned good life, in many ways, but sometimes it just about brings on a heart attack, or at least a heavy sigh...