Boxes and Things

And so today marks the end of my fall semester. I came. I saw. I conquered. And I am now sick to prove it. All of the stress and all of the late nights have finally caught up with me. At the moment, I sound worse than a frog on drugs and my thought pattern may be slightly muddled by whatever it was that I took half an hour ago. I don't remember its name. It makes me feel kind of fuzzy. (But not soft and it's not making me big and strong, unlike whatever Greg took out of the writing center.)

Anyway, I went out to my garage this morning to find a box. All Christmas presents should be put in boxes. I say this because I am a Christmas snoop and when I see presents for me underneath the Christmas tree, I shake them. A book that is not in a box is not fun to shake, but a book in a box . . . oh, what delight! (What can I say? I'm a girl who enjoys simple pleasures.) Anyway, the boxes reminded me of "staying inside the box," which reminded me of rules, which reminded me that I had not yet written this blog! My mind works in odd ways sometimes. Heck, forget sometimes. My mind works in odd ways all the time. If you don't believe me, ask my family -- those wonderful six people who have spent much of their time in conversation with me with their heads cocked, their eyebrows raised, and with the word "Huh?" practically etched on their foreheads.

I digress. Boxes! I was talking about boxes. I like boxes. Always have. Like I said, they make gifts noisier than they normally would be. They are handy for packing things. And they are also great toys. Playing inside boxes is fun. Perhaps this mentality may be the reason I am prone to avoiding tutoring "outside the box." I just enjoy the inside of the box too much. I've always been the type of girl who enjoyed coloring inside the lines more than moving my crayon outside of them. But coloring inside the lines does not mean I always used the logical colors. I delighted in purple Christmas trees and orange gingerbread cookies, brown snow (mmm, looked like melted chocolate) and fluorescent pink ducks.

I would say I adapt the rules more often than I break them. After all, I need structure in my life! Just not too much! I have given students words. But from the looks of the blogs so far, who hasn't? I have given students topical suggestions. If that's a crime, then punish me -- for doing something that would advance the rest of the session. I wrote on a student's paper. Cut off my hand if you want, but first let me point out that she was dyslexic and this was the only way I could help her.

When all things are said and done, the people who make the rules know even as they make them that someday, someone will break them. Just as my family knows even as they wrap my gifts in boxes that once those gifts are under the tree, I will shake them.