The Goat song of one who is Still Alive

I am still alive, but the job is all encompassing.    The kids are calming down to normal, teeange urban youth-actually, they’re pretty enjoyable,  and sometimes, I feel really guilty for making them read Antigone.     Most of them are making a valiant effort to at least read it outloud.    I don’t know why it seemed like a good idea,  I guess because the  Greeks invented Drama(Do you know that Tragedy loosely translates to Goat Song? I didn’t, until I taught Greek  Tragedy).    Coming in some place, basically mid semester, I’m not going lie, you feel pretty desparate for curriculum.  All I know is I had to put them to work immediately, so they’d take me seriously.    Many of them claibut ram to still hate me.  Which is ok.  Because,  they can channel that angst into their scenes.  I have put of grading to embarassing levels.  That is the problem with assigning work, you have to correct it, which is awful.   On the other hand, I feel so free to be freaky, afterall I am the drama teacher. One of the first things I am going to do is to dye my ahir a new color, and also get a haircut.     Why not? I can look weird and artsy, because I am the drama teacher, not some dry,  sad English Teacher.  But a drama teacher.  Grammar and spelling no longer matter. Ha ha!

I met a guy who was single the other night.   Technically, he is separated and divorcing- he also teaches latin. I am actually reading this book called The masterpiece, by Zola- Idon’t know, Monica suggested it, and it seemed like I should read something other than novels about Vampires.   And basically, there’s this line about this woman “filled with the unconscious regret for the terrible things that might have, but had not, happened.”   He kind of reminded me of John Cusack, nervous energy, a cigarette, beer,  mildly witty and self depricating.    And then, at the same moment that  Pat said we should go ot the next bar, his friends cae up and wanted to go and get tacos.   And because we both seemed to be awkward people who lack basic social skills of exchanging numbers, nothing happened.   I realize, it’s not really about there not being single people, because there seem some at least once every couple of weeks,   but rather the wondering if anythign is going thappen or not.    I guess thigns worked out for the woman in the novel, at least for a while, until(spoiler alert) she dies.  I guess I should get better at you know, giving my number.