Uff! It's been more than a whole month since I last sat down to exercise my creative skills by blogging, but if you had been in my shoes, you wouldn't have found the time either.
The last month was mostly spent preparing my yearly plan for the next school period, checking that every single item provided by the school was returned as close as the original state as possible, and dealing with angry parents who didn't understand why their lovely children flunked the school year and now have to take an extraordinary exam. My private LAAAAAAAAAAAME prize to the stupidest phrase of the year went to a father who stated that "you are so demotivating to the kids". If he only knew how demotivating his lazy kid was to me... (sigh).
But there was an extremely positive side to all this, and it was just the merry perspective of a whole month ahead without any responsibilities, but the amount of stuff these kids left behind in the abandoned, empty classrooms (which happened to look kind of happy, I'd say).
Among the huge amount of partialy used notebooks with only around 20 written pages each, the complete geometry sets which only lacked the compasses and a couple of just-a-bit-battered Swiss Army and Swiss Gear backpacks, there were around 14 or 15 novels and short stories students were not interested in keeping, although we teachers are.
From "Mirrormask" to "The Catcher in the Rye", which I had been trying to get for years, around 9 or 10 assorted books were carefully and tenderly placed in my rucksack, unable to wait for the moment they would join my humble 926-book library. And after finishing "Crocodile Shoes", which I found particularly amusing, I keep wondering what separates me from a generation that discards these expensive books as others discard used tissues. This is one of those peculiar things that make me feel absolutely detached from the rest of human race... well, of Mexican People. I have only found 3 other aliens... I mean, people, who read as avidly and hungrily as me. Understanding that modern kids perceive reading these carefully selected pieces as a punishment, and that they will barely come, not to appreciate them, but to fully understand them, makes me worried and proud at the same time.
So, after 6 months of hell unleashed, there was finally a pay back: all these wonderful books I was allowed to select, read, reread and nurture for years to come. A king's ransom in books, indeed.
The last month was mostly spent preparing my yearly plan for the next school period, checking that every single item provided by the school was returned as close as the original state as possible, and dealing with angry parents who didn't understand why their lovely children flunked the school year and now have to take an extraordinary exam. My private LAAAAAAAAAAAME prize to the stupidest phrase of the year went to a father who stated that "you are so demotivating to the kids". If he only knew how demotivating his lazy kid was to me... (sigh).
But there was an extremely positive side to all this, and it was just the merry perspective of a whole month ahead without any responsibilities, but the amount of stuff these kids left behind in the abandoned, empty classrooms (which happened to look kind of happy, I'd say).
Among the huge amount of partialy used notebooks with only around 20 written pages each, the complete geometry sets which only lacked the compasses and a couple of just-a-bit-battered Swiss Army and Swiss Gear backpacks, there were around 14 or 15 novels and short stories students were not interested in keeping, although we teachers are.
From "Mirrormask" to "The Catcher in the Rye", which I had been trying to get for years, around 9 or 10 assorted books were carefully and tenderly placed in my rucksack, unable to wait for the moment they would join my humble 926-book library. And after finishing "Crocodile Shoes", which I found particularly amusing, I keep wondering what separates me from a generation that discards these expensive books as others discard used tissues. This is one of those peculiar things that make me feel absolutely detached from the rest of human race... well, of Mexican People. I have only found 3 other aliens... I mean, people, who read as avidly and hungrily as me. Understanding that modern kids perceive reading these carefully selected pieces as a punishment, and that they will barely come, not to appreciate them, but to fully understand them, makes me worried and proud at the same time.
So, after 6 months of hell unleashed, there was finally a pay back: all these wonderful books I was allowed to select, read, reread and nurture for years to come. A king's ransom in books, indeed.
