Right after the 4th, I went berry picking on the dam of the lake and came home with perhaps two cups of blackberries. The bushes were covered in red berries and I promised my self that as soon as I came home from the Advanced Placement Summer Institute, I would go back and hope the birds and coons didn't clean out the patch while I was gone.
And then there was the AP institute. Oh. My. It has been years since I felt that stupid and uneducated. Words like "anaphora" and "synecdoche" floated glibly off teachers tongues as they discussed passage analysis while I scrambled through the dictionary on my iPad trying madly to keep up. The difference in argument and persuasion. Making a 9 rather than a 5. Style and voice. At one point we did 10 multiple choice q's over a passage. I was guessing. I was praying I got at least half of them right and that no one called on me. I actually got 8 right, but couldn't have explained to a kid why I knew they were right. They just felt that way, just instinct. It was so relieving when Jo Perriman, who has a masters, said in frustration "I can't do this." It was permission for me to struggle. I came home still totally unprepared to teach this class. I left USAO feeling confident to teach lit analysis . . . I can better handle theme and all that. I will be teaching language and comp, not lit. Not my comfort zone.
I have a lot of work to do in the next few weeks to get ready for this and my eye has started twitching.
I came home to a husband who couldn't even get off the couch to pee so was choosing to not drink anything. Two days before I went to AP, Jack fell and did something to his back. The first day he was stiff and sore but took some anti-inflammatories of mine. He managed to function fairly well for about 4 days. Then he ran out of the pills and locked up. I came home to a husband who couldn't function, a wild child, and a trashed house. I got him more meds and got him to the chiropractor. The doc said it could be as bad as a ruptured disc or as simple as a torn muscle and definitely a pinched nerve. He is a little better - the screaming and moaning has stopped when he moves, but his right leg and foot are numb so driving is tricky . . . Which means he can't work. He doesn't have insurance yet, though if he goes back to work, he can start that process. In the meantime, our chiropractor says a regular doc would have the same "wait and let it heal" approach. Jack goes back to the chiropractor tomorrow. I am getting worried - I really thought he would be better by now and I don't know how long his job will wait on him. In the meantime, I have asked our church body to pray for healing. He woke today with less pain and a better mood so maybe it is progress.
Can you tell I am a little stressed? Depressed? Bordering on panic? I feel like I am swamped with things I need to do here on the place before school starts - both academics and house projects. My janky hand is slowing me down, but that is a whole different problem to be addressed some other time.
Back to the berries. Tuesday morning came drizzly, cool, and gray. I pulled on my old rubber boots, the ones with the top bitten off by a former dog, grabbed my bucket and headed down the hill. I really expected the berries to be gone - it had been too long since I had been down there. The bushes were covered in berries, both red and black. I came home with only a gallon, but there were lots of red ones so I will check again in a few days. With these cool, wet days, maybe they won't have shriveled on the canes.
While I picked, Avery kept me company. It rained a little more, plastering Jack's last Navy work shirt to my back. I continued to pick. I pondered Malthusian theory from PEST class because I am reading Dante's Inferno. I thought about some poetry I had read and a David Sedaris piece I wanted to re-read. I wondered what other farmers and country folk thought about while they worked. Did they contemplate international relations with Egypt and try to remember all the words to "She Walks in Beauty"? It was beyond peaceful. There were fish splashing and frogs hopping, much to Avery's delight. The rain was misty and cool on my face. The black berry thorns were vicious. My eye didn't twitch and I didn't worry about whether or not my hand would allow me to scrub the shower. I am still convinced I belong there on the farm, all day and every day. It seems to sit well with my soul.
Today, I will putter in my wild patch of tomatoes a bit today and take Bell to the pool. I will finish mowing the yard. I will make something for the church bake sale.
There is surely a patron saint of English teachers with gimpy husbands who can lend me a hand until I can get back to the berries and some sanity.
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