Today, I started my 4th year teaching high school English. First days are a weird ritual in American schools. Most every student wears a brand new outfit. They all appear spotless and unwrinkled-- nervously quiet. (That won't last.) Twenty-five strange faces all staring at me, quietly wondering, "Will I like this teacher?" The first day is important. Students choose whether or not they will want to learn in your class. Summers are great, because I can devote myself full-time to writing. When the school year comes around, I have to divide my interests. I write at the same pace, but my opportunites to be lazy disappear.
