A Turnaround (and Around and Around)

This morning was one of those mornings.

I'd stayed up a bit later than I'd wanted, last night, because on top of grading quizzes, I had revisions to make to a tightly written piece for a local periodical. Come morning, for some reason, both of my children decided that 5:30 a.m. was too late to be in bed. Then, crawling through my morning routine, I discovered that a basement leak that I'd thought fixed was actually coming through a different spot, and with the torrential downpour, some preventative measures — towels, to the non–home owner — were required to prevent the water from dripping down the wall and slithering around the corner, through the bathroom, and into the cedar closet during the day. And the school day confirmed that the large contingent of unruly children in my class is going to force me to be the sort of teacher I'd prefer not to be.

But then the day progressed. Today the middle school teachers worked out new schedules that will allow me to trade my three grades of math for three grades of English. Not only will that be more fun and more in line with my areas of expertise, but it will require less rigid (and time-consuming) planning. After school, I was pleased to discover that the pumpkin beers are back on the shelf, and my expectations were not disappointed that they would instantly evoke pleasant memories of last autumn and winter.

When I'd finally made it to my computer to check my email, one from reader Mike S. directed my attention the newly released digital version of National Review. Turning to page 19 (p. 21 of the PDF file), skimming down to the bottom, I saw that Dust in the Light made the "up-'n'-comers" box in NR's "Blog Guide 2004."

If I didn't know better, I'd think that somebody among the magazine's editorial staff was just looking for a way to prod me toward more-devoted posting, even in the midst of my thrown-in-the-pool struggle to get 28 seventh graders under control and learning. Well, intended or not, the message has been received.

Compared with the now-homeless people along the southern coast, my basement leaks are as nothing. Compared with so many people everywhere clawing their way out of ruts, my various occupations are astoundingly light, fun, and edifying. A house cannot run on an empty budget, but a life can run on hope, at least for a good, long while.