Cheesy bricks and endings

Went to grade final exam essays at the Evergreen Cafe after school, then went to Alonso's for dinner. The latter was overpriced and the unhealthy food I ate is sitting in the pit of my stomach like a brick. I don't know why the path to good health is so hard for me to follow. Tons of cheese melted over fried chips, and it wasn't even particularly good. I've been feeling like hell ever since.

I'm very proud of my final exam, which, thankfully, has not been sullied by the ridiculous benchmarks we have been inflicted with. I know I'm obsessed with these things, but I just feel like they're a metaphor for the colossol mismanagement of resources by North Avenue. My exam assessed the content and college-level skills that I hope the kids learned from my class - what a concept!

Favorite line from a final exam essay: Janie's journey began when she started "blossoming" against the pear tree in Nanny's back yard. Yes, my kids can take the motif of flowers and blossoming used in the book and make it a euphemism for Janie beating off, which we basically decided she was doing in that famous pear tree scene.

I should be pretty happy right now, having given a satisfying final exam that is already graded. However, the conversation at dinner with my friends has really brought me down, and, that, combined with the brick of oily cheese in my stomach, has made this an evening of listening to tortured music at my computer. I think it's that it's a time of transitions - the end of the school year, the end of a dear colleague's career, plus another's, the end of the class of 2007, the end of lots of things. I want the school year to end but can't muster up any enthusiasm for the summer. Not a happy place to be in, although I'm sure it will pass soon. The yearly fresh start that comes with a teaching career is something I hold onto as something grand, but this annual cleansing always germinates from an ending, which aren't necessarily happy (the ending on this crummy school year and crummy year for my personal life is welcome, but still sad - I could have done so much more!).