"And every time I try to pick it up, like falling sand, as fast as I pick it up, it runs away through my clutching hands. But there's nothing else I can really do. There's nothing else I can really do. There's nothing else I can really do at all..." ~the cure

Oh, The Cure. How wonderful are they.

I haven't blogged for awhile; I've been busy. On Friday night I had the synchro team over to my apartment for dinner, which was fun. I made vegetarian lasagna, and we finished it all so apparently it turned out okay. We played Apples to Apples and laughed and just relaxed together. Yesterday we had a synchro meet vs. Ohio State. It was my last home meet, which was sad. My trio didn't swim our best, and the meet turned into a disaster when we blew out the underwater speakers, but it was still fun. We managed to magically fix the speakers so that the team routines could swim to music, and watching Ohio State's team routine was amazing. Some of those girls are olympic swimmers, and it definitely shows. They are beyond talented. My parents came down to see me swim, and we went out to dinner last night and walked around Short Pump. It was good to see them. I haven't done any work this weekend, though, which is a bad thing. I need to plan a unit for my drama class. At first she told me I wouldn't be teaching until March, but on Friday she said that I'll be starting my unit a week from Monday. That's definitely not enough time to plan, especially because I'm also planning for my English classes. Arg. And my student teaching supervisor is coming to observe me teach an English lesson on Monday. I need to finalize my plans for that lesson and make sure that he won't have to see chaos ensue.

Before I head off to babysit for 5 hours, I want to share a lovely poem that one of my students wrote. They had to respond to the speaker of Andrew Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress," through poetry or prose. It's not an easy poem to understand. This one kid doesn't like to do homework, doesn't respect me, and always talks during class (about topics totally unrelated to class). He definitely makes teaching a challenge. But he actually did this homework assignment, and I was so happy that he actually put some thought into it. So here's his poem:

"Hey dude.
Why don't you chill out
You creep.
I seriously think you need to back off.
I mean, let's be real.
Like my boy Daniel said.
With that make-up and hair, you look like you could be someone's Coy Mistress yourself.
Pervert.
You're lucky you lived about a billion years ago.
Because that's the type of thing that gets you a restraining order nowadays.
I don't know which pleasures you're going to 'tear with rough strife.'
But that sounds like something you could go to jail for."