Beware the Ides of March

March is a well named month, I think. It's the month where I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other like a good soldier and slog through the underbrush and quicksand, through increasingly hostile territory.  We march even though we are tired and sick at heart.  We march even though our feet hurt and there's no time to see a podiatrist. All in hopes of making it to that clear beautiful week we in the education game call Spring Break.

Someday, when I am appointed Queen on High, I am scrapping the school calendar as it stands and writing something that supports family life (for students and teachers), respects the amount of preparation time it takes to do this job well, and follows a pace it's possible to keep up without sacrificing your physical and mental health. When I do this, I fully expect to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, because of all the violence that is neatly sidestepped by making us all less frustrated and more successful.

Until then, I'm reading Tim O'Brien again and thinking about the things I carry . . .and which ones I can put down for a while.