No more words...

When you pay tens of thousands of dollars to send your children to private school, you can be assured of a few things. One, that their teachers will be awesome, and two, that you will not only get a report card with letter and number grades, but you will also get a report card with words. And by words, I mean a detailed breakdown of why your child scored the marks he/she did.

This is the worst part of teaching children whose parents pay tens of thousands of dollars to send them to school.

By Monday morning, I must have 65 of these "reports" written. For each student I teach, I have to write multiple paragraphs about their performance. I have to use academic language and complex sentence structure, and each one needs to be personalized (no form letter, unfortunately). To say that this takes a while is an understatement. To say that I would rather cut off phalanges is more accurate. In the end, it will take about 2-3 hours per class to do this. And I teach 5 classes.

So right now I hate my life more than usual. My typical "take no work home" mantra has been temporarily discarded for fear of not completing this biannual process.

At least while at home I can ingest a cocktail or two to help the words flow freely through my fingertips. I just have to make sure I don't spill any whiskey on my keyboard.

Happy Thursday.