Whence comes the desire to write things on an electronic media and publish it for the entire world (read: two or three people) to see? At this point, while in the midst of a troubling period wherein seven to eight pages of single-spaced tripe are required of me each week at the hand of matriarchal educational mavens at the University level, I don't catch that desire very often.
Sin embargo (as they say in Spain and other like-languaged countries), at times I must exercise the muscle and put out a few words. If I don't, the datelines look a bit odd, going from one month to another after two or three lines.
Here's an example of what I have to write for three stupid classes each week.
My education career has taken me into the searing desert heat, unmitigated mountain cold and the unsheltered wastelands of the state and district-haunted classroom. By far, I prefer the former two, but those options carry with them drawbacks that both my family and I are unwilling to deal with right now with seven kids at home to care for.
I have been fortunate to work with many professionals in both the classroom and the wilderness settings. I have seen and discussed many great tools and methodologies with those people, and for that, I am grateful.
Right now, I am teaching in a girl’s lock-down treatment center. This is probably the last place in the world where I would like to teach, but necessity and dwindling alternative high school funding priorities have brought me to this lowly state. The facility I work at has been operating for only three or four months, and I’ve been working there for just under two months.

It's the same for each class, varying a bit for individual taste and political persuasion. Very, very distasteful to me, but I am doing it for the children, if no one else.
More like this is likely, inasmuch that these classes have me in their clutch until the beginning of May.

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