Another entry in the ongoing “Updates From The Whiteboard In My Shower” series.
…as absurd as Rachel’s depiction of me is, I probably look and talk more like Launchpad McQuack than I’d like to admit.
(The Twitter shirt is an actual total coincidence.)
By way of context: While my first year of teaching, taken as a whole, was unquestionably the most challenging continuous thing I’ve ever had to do, everything since April has been draining beyond belief. Writing final exams, organizing year-end projects, and somehow remembering what the hell my kids have been doing all year have collectively stretched me thinner than I’ve been since Red-Bulling-and-American-Spiriting my entire college thesis in about a week.
At this point, Last-Minute Panic is basically the Best Man at my WEDDING we’re so GODDAMN acquainted.
…but: like a battered Millenium Falcon escaping from the collapsing innards of the unfinished Death Star, I emerged from my final week of classes, flames trailing me in my triumphant escape*. Billy Dee Exultations! Mo’fuckin’ Ewok party! Solemn Ghost Reunion! CREDITS!
…right?
Not without finishing 63 pages of Student Reports by next Monday. (Sorry superfans…every Star Wars analogy has to break down sometime.)
I haven’t even bothered to measure how little sleep I’ve gotten. Maybe I should have.
…while I sort of noted my face feeling drawn when starting the self-timer, I honestly startled myself with this photo: it’s not posed.
And that is the story of my Gratuitous Picture Of Myself. Wish me luck.
* Seriously though guys I ran Bunsen burner gas through a tube through bubble solution and those fuckers go off like nothing you should see in a classroom.
