A kid came over to talk to the SCM today about volunteering in the library, and when he left, I asked the SCM what the boy's name was. He said "Robin," and I knew he had misheard. I guessed that it was "Roman" and when I looked it up, it was. Then, because I didn't recall that there were any boys in the school named Robin, I did a little search through the student master list. There are, at the moment, no students in the school named Robin at all, boy or girl. There are, however, three boys named Roman. There are two boys named Igor and two named Ilya, and three girls named Olga. Not to worry; there are still 13 Christophers and 18 Jennifers, but even so. There are four kids named Gal. When did Robin stop being a name?
After I wrote last night, I sorted through my newly found ornaments -- ahhhhh, it was relaxing and fun -- and then did my best to analyze what the hell was going on in my head. This would have been a good topic for therapy, if I were still going to therapy, but I gave that up in favor of you all, which, to tell the truth, by that time was working just as well. (Although the therapy was excellent and helped greatly when I most needed it. But I digress.) My problem of the moment is the realization that I just feel responsible for everything. If I call a service person to do something in the house and it's not good, it's my fault. If I take the car to be fixed and it still doesn't work, it's my fault. If my kids are not happy with their Christmas presents, it's my fault. Clearly, this is my problem, and this is my fault, and that's what I've got to work on. I figure that if I selected the service person, or the garage, or picked out the gift, or just bought a gift and it didn't work, then the responsibility is mine. And since, historically, no one else in my house calls the service person or takes the car in for service or buys the Christmas presents, it is me, the burden of whether it works out or not rests on my shoulders. Or so I have believed. Ach, there's always some sort of baggage to work through, to open up and empty out its contents and pack it all away where it belongs. Well, at least I've got something to think about and keep me busy for awhile.
Tomorrow is a horrid day in the library, although it may be only a preview of what life will be like when I am sans library altogether. It is the day of the annual debate tournament here at the high school. On tournament day, kids come from seven or eight other schools, and there are debates in all different classrooms going on all day. And the visitors leave their stuff in the library, for which we must be closed to our own entire student body for the whole day. :( What. A. Pain. None of our kids are allowed entry because we have become a giant locker room. And this goes on every year, one day a year, which is too much as far as I am concerned. What they will do next year when there is no library to speak of, I do not know. As for me, it's a day of shelf work, which is just as well, but it's very odd to have other people invading your space and making it impossible for you to do what you do every day. As I say, a preview of things to come.
(I was just checking out books to a class doing research, a very low-level Junior English class, as it so happens, but they were doing their work and getting books on Shakespeare and Robert Louis Stevenson and so on, and I reminded them that their books were due in January, but that we absolutely had to have everything back no later than March so that the packing up of the library could begin. And when they realized that there would be no library for a period of months, even they were appalled. It seems to be a universal reaction, for everybody except the Superintendent of Schools.)
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I'm watching Seinfeld
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
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