Journal 4

So Bill stopped wondering about work. Work, that obnoxious entity with the short due dates that lurked everywhere at school. The time consuming thing that hides in lockers like a box with no light, and no hope. What need has Work for a student, and a binder to contain it? It stays in its backpack that is toted over the world. Lurks quiet and oppressive all day with it’s papers stored, waiting for the student to go home. Been assigned to kids before there was a reason or a rhyme or an understanding. He was likely to encounter an unannounced pop quiz sitting on his desk any day now. He was tired and unstudied also. Poor Townzen! She ought not to have to correct this all by herself. He sent Thomas to the classroom to suggest help, but Townzen said No. These principals were good with the discipline-needy but they couldn’t help with a problem like this. She would be more awake once the small child stopped crying for her. She was going to get sleep after all. That is what she hoped. But Thomas said no, so she understood. But if he didn’t she was going to find out, for people started congregating in the classroom and around the desks. Students that wouldn’t even think to go into IB English now peeked in but didn’t come into the classroom. Just looked thought the blinds and watched. Sleeping, that illusive state, had escaped the classroom.