no songs in my head for a week or so now. worrying.

I stood in the classroom this morning singularly failing to distract children from the falling snow. In the end I had to concede that all I really wanted to do was stand in front of the window and watch it coming straight down like heavy feathers. 'Heavy feathers' I thought to myself. 'That's how it looks.' I wanted to tell someone, but I didn't think the seven year olds would get it, and besides I was supposed to be distracting them.*

So I'm telling you. I've managed to remember it through to the end of the day, which is some sort of miracle.

I snatched three quarters of an hour in bed this evening by skipping sign-language practice. Several texted traffic updates prevented me from sleeping so instead I lay there and watched the sky get darker out of the window. How rare this is, I thought: just nothing for a moment.

An artist needs mental space, I thought. A space to find the creativity. A teacher is always engaged, whether in answering a hundred identical questions or breaking up conflicts or explaining something again or pursuing a cup of tea or teaching, even. The two things do not go together very well, really.

An image popped into my head, words in a thought bubble. I'll draw that later, when I have another moment, I thought. I'll post it to my blog. I worried briefly that people might think I was plagiarising. I considered several other images, about engaged teachers and constantly chasing sleep and spending all my spare time rushing from one place to another. They wait in my head now, for some time to get them down on paper.

I'd do it now, but I'm in a rush.

*We gave up in the end, and made snowmen. It was fun.