Dear Powers That Be,
I’ve been student teaching music classes for almost two months. Teaching is hard. Anyone who says otherwise should be chastised, fined, and drop-kicked into a stagnant pond.
Lately, I’ve been dreaming of a cushier life. A life with fewer glockenspiels. A life filled with travel, dry wit, freshly pressed clothes, and fine food. Less “warm demander”, more man about town.
May I please be reincarnated as Bertie Wooster?
And could this happen soon? Before another week of 4th graders with squeaky plastic recorders?
Rebekah, an exhausted rag bag formerly described as “Jaunty”