Back in the Groove

I'm happy to report that one class was all it took - I am thrilled to be back at school. I knew I would be, but I still couldn't sleep very well the night before it started up again. Sometimes I think vacations are too hard to come back from to be worth it. But then I look forward to weekends like some people look forward to trips to Europe. I guess two great weeks is worth the cost of one sleepless night!

Anyway, the highlight so far has been teaching Agatha Christie's Ten Little Indians in play form. Danny had told me his students really liked it, but oy vay! My kids are going crazy! Of course, it helps that I'm teaching it to the 7th and 8th graders, who aren't afraid to be wildly enthusiastic at the drop of a hat (how could I have ever been nervous about middle school?!).

At the first murder the girls instantly burst into gasps and shudders and squeals, and the boys burst into accusations and theories. At the second murder it took some dire threats on my part to get them back to reading. I allowed a break for theories, but man! They would have kept at it all day! But of course there were those who wanted to hurry up and read, and forget all the guessing stuff. So soon they were yelling at each other to be quiet. Hee hee hee. What a success. Then they all started talking about nightmares, and I was a little nervous on my way home. So far I've received zero angry parent calls. I'm going for a no-hitter, as it were.

Sure enough, this morning one of my students told me he'd had nightmare. Sigh. But silly me - I should have known he was joking, since he's the one I describe as "probably what Uncle Paul was like as a student."

I heard from my 10th and 11th graders that my 7th and 8th graders (their younger siblings) were trying to repeat the entire story to them - and anyone else who would listen. One student's father is in Iraq. He called home last night...and was regaled with an Agatha Christie story. Well, the beginning of one, anyway. We still haven't finished. She told me that he was very interested in it. Dear man, my respect for him (which was already sky high) shot up some more.

We got another scene or so done this afternoon, and at the end of the day one of the girls told me that the entire class had talked about the play for their entire art class. There would be a lull, and then one of them (the same one every time, I think) would say "but what about Dr. Armstrong?" and they would be off again.

YYYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!! I LOVE MY JOB!

They have some really clever theories about it all, too! They should be mystery writers themselves (which they will be next week, although they don't know it yet - it will be my first fiction assignment and I'm really looking forward to reading the results!). They have decided that two of them are married though they are pretending not to be. They have decided that there really is no murderer - they are all killing themselves off in madness or guilt. They have decided that Narracott the boatman must have done it. And Emily. And Dr. Armstrong. And Rogers.

In other news, my high schoolers are assembling a puppet show of the story of the Cyclops. Did I mention that I love my job?