February 4, 2009

Snowy, and deadly cold. Schools are closed today, and I get to do what I was going to do anyway, but with that sense of urgency that comes with deadlines. Emma Kirby sings Elizabethan songs on the CD.

Worked harder at cardio yesterday than I had the day before, with less after-effect– except a few monumental muscle spasms late in the evening. They felt of righteousness, though.

I need to mention my playwrights’ workshop Monday night. It was one of those occasions when one remembers why one went into teaching. The kids were bright, eager, playful, happy, insightful, generous and rigorous at once. I told them such classes bring light into my life; I only hope they believed me. What would I have done had I taught at a place imbued by cynicism, as I understand some are?
The hardest cases in a playwriting class are those who think they have succeeded if they have presented the point they intended at first to present. The starting point is the point you depart from, nothing more. The Way is not known at the first step, but only at the last.

Printed out 24 pages of tax forms.