It’s very nearly Christmas. I haven’t been in school all week and should have been doing lesson plans and getting a head start on the remaining assignments. And, to give myself some credit, I did start the week in that way. On Monday I went to the college, got some books out on the reading list, and then went home and started writing up lesson plans, and emailed them to my class teacher for review. You really can’t ask for anymore than that.
On Tuesday morning I got a reply from her, basically I have to rewrite them. Bummer. And I had spend a huge amount of time, and even a few quid, getting the resources together for the lessons, which now are of no use as I can’t teach that lesson. Even bigger bummer. If anyone wants a CD of a pygmy honey gathering song, let me know. And, after you’ve listened to it, could you please let me know what it sounds like.
Thing is, this totally knocked me back, I was really, really (and totally unreasonably) pissed off. My limbic system kicked in (the bit of the brain that controls emotions and such like), and has stayed kicked in ever since, at least in respect of college / school. When this kicks in, your logic functions shut down and you just have to go with it.
In some ways this is great, I know that I am too pissed off to think about it, so there is no point trying. This is very liberating, especially around Christmas, it means I can just enjoy the festivities. However, there is a suspicion in my mind that this realization is itself logical, which means that I’ve got past the limbic system and am very capable of doing some work. But you can overanalyze these things.
More interestingly, I’ve always thought of myself as the sort of guy who was very open to criticism, and actually sought it out. I am aware that I can get defensive, especially on things close to my heart, but I’ve always thought that I’ve had a pretty positive approach to this sort of thing, but this little episode would indicate otherwise.
Or perhaps, I used to be, but am not anymore, which I wouldn’t really categorise as progress.
But that’s not the only thing I’ve noticed about myself. I was wrapping some presents for my kids (or, to be more accurate, one present, the Mother of My Children had bought and wrapped all the others – so no change there) and I wrote her name very carefully in very fancy script, lots of twirls and such like. If it had been half neat, you would have put your mortgage on it being a chick’s handwriting.
This is exactly the sort of thing that I would have never, ever done in my previous existence. I would have scrawled it quickly, if it turned out legible, that would have been a plus.
Is it possible that I am changing in some very subtle way, and I can only observe this from the things I do as I certainly don’t feel any different?
Or is possible that I drank one too many glasses of wine before writing this?
Happy Christmas.