It is not that I have neglected reflection this year, but that my reflection took the form of these visual flashes as a new group wandered into my room each day and I just acted on them. It was intense performance art, people. And most of the time, the excitement kept me going. I am exhausted to the bone, though, so exhausted that I do not even resent folks whining about how I only work 9 months a year. I welcome new teachers to the profession; I am the first to tout my job as one of the best in the world. But do it for a year, first. Then we can talk. Stream of consciousness teaching was my modus operandi this year, and overall I think it went well. Two new courses (AP-level British Lit, AP Lit) this year and senior seminar gave me a total of 6 classes and 4 preps this year, so I just had to rely on my muses (the authors I teach and my KIDS) to get through. So it has been 3 weeks since school ended, and I am usually deep into "what I will do even better next year" by now. Instead, I am still wandering aimlessly through my garden, my reading choices, even my knitting. I browse Twitter and wonder how all my PLN folks are still powering through new ideas, conferences (ISTE, sigh), and even Common Core with the same intensity and creativity as always. Luckily, I am old enough to say, good for you. But I am going to have another glass of my homemade lemonade and start a new book.
P.S. I did buy Jack Kerouac's first novel, The Sea is My Brother. So I guess the consciousness will keep streaming.