To live and die by highway dust

Yesterday morning contained much errand-running but no writing time. Yesterday afternoon, as with pretty much every afternoon this week, contained much playground time with the kindergarten kids. The weather has been hot and muggy, and the playground has a more or less permanent cloud of dust hanging over it. (Apparently there is no child alive who is capable of walking across a patch of bare earth without scuffing their feet through it.) I'm not always on the playground, though, lest you think my new job boring. Sometimes I get to patrol lunch tables, and I even get to loiter outside restrooms on a regular basis while waiting for my young charges to return to me.

This morning, I indulged in more reading and did one last practice run of my writing class lecture. I have ten middle school students in the fiction writing elective I'm teaching, we had our first session this afternoon, and while they were mostly very quiet and a little uncertain, I think it went well. I saw a few sparks in eyes as I was talking, and I have high hopes that I will see more as we all get to know each other and feel more comfortable.

In the meantime, I am nursing a really sore throat and serious sinus drainage, brought on at least in part, I'm sure, by the previously mentioned cloud of dust in which I spend a fair chunk of my day.