Ventilation

"Oh, now feel it comin' back again


Like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind


Forces pullin' from the center of the earth again


I can feel it
"

- Kowalczyk, Edward; Taylor, Chad; Dahlheimer, Patrick; Gracey, Chad. Song “Lightning Crashes” Live

I’m fighting The Blues.

I can feel it creeping in, like it often does. Riding my bike to work this morning, I noted the perfect temperature as the sun bathed my skin in light. There wasn’t too much traffic and the air was as fresh-scented (as fresh as it gets in a city) as it tickled my skin and embraced my hair through the helmet vents. Leaves and flowers brightened the earth once again. I reminded myself of the loveliness of the moment. I told myself I was young(ish) and strong and healthy. I listed the good things in my life.

And still that feeling of being sucked underwater wouldn’t leave.

It may have had something to do with my other reality. My tripped out bike with its lovely bags was transporting me to place I didn’t want to go, to do something I didn’t want to do. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what the “something” was going to be. Last night’s call was for Special Ed at the high school. Vague enough for ya?

Would I have my own classroom or would I be teaching with someone else? What subject would I be teaching? How many students would I have? What would these students be like? Were there plans waiting for me or was I flying by the seat of my pants as per usual?

I want a break from subbing. I want a break from writing about subbing. I want a break.

There are too many other wants and responsibilities interfering with this work life that has become my identity. The identity I don’t want. In ten short days, I’m attending the NESCBWI conference. There are so many things I should be doing to prepare for it.

I’ll meet with two agents: one for a quick query and one for a ten-page critique. The quick query agent I’m embarrassed to meet for reasons I won’t get into right now. Maybe another post, when I can look back and laugh. Anyway, I need to prepare my questions and my pitches (should the need arise).

Now I’m a volunteer at the conference, which will make the experience more hectic, but it’s good for me. Still, that means I have more to worry about along with wondering what I’ll wear and what to read to prepare.

I’m halfway through my edits on The Disappearances and Aubrie has been a superstar helping get my manuscript up to snuff. I hope to have someone else’s eye read through the whole thing and then prepare for queries. I’m feeling good about this WIP.

At the conference, I’ll participate in a peer critique. I’ve had the idea for, Naked Eye in my head for months, and wrote down the first impressions of what it would be so I wouldn’t forget. Imagine if I could get a few solid pages done so I could have a five-minute read-aloud of it? That would be awesome. Time is against me. My frame of mind is against me.

I arrived in the school's office to find out that the teacher had been absent yesterday and no plans were left. Shocking!

“Do you know if she works with someone else during the English class?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does she teach a particular subject?”

“I don’t know. She’s SPED.”

“What should I do with the students?”

“Just tell them to work on whatever they were working on yesterday.”

What if they aren’t working on anything?

Then another woman gave me the office key and instructed, “Don’t lose it.”

Am I the only person who feels responsible for the students? Why should I care? I’m the one who’s making less than half of what the regular teachers are making. I’m not paid for holidays or vacations. On the plus side, I don’t take work home, but I’m walking around with a lot of baggage.

I know the jobs are rarely as bad as it all appears when I walk into the office in the morning. My blog is a broken record:

Fractured Plans

Quick Thinking

Sub Saves the Day

I’m tired of living it. Are you tired of hearing it?

I’m tired. The stress of it all woke me up at 4:30 am. That’s sleep I can’t afford to lose. How can I get through work, do all of the mom things after school, cook, and have an iota of energy to write?

I’m supposed to make the whole thing lighthearted, reporting my whacky adventures with zany students.

Not today. Today I need to vent.

Come back tomorrow. I’ll cobble together something better.