And now, a disturbing look into the mind of a teacher at the edge of sanity.

I’m now down to one final set of tests to mark and am full on and well into The Walll. It doesn’t help that, for various complicated reasons not worthy of explanation, we’ve chosen to include essay sections on our tests. This subjects the reader to such gems as “My mother is name’s is Letitia” (not the mother’s real name) and “She is like a soccer” and the more appropriate to an HBO series or the late great Jerry Springer show:  “My mother has my five childs.”

The Wall is a moment you reach when you physically and mentally cannot read another word of student writing. You stare at the scribblings on the page but cannot comprehend the words and you soon cease to care. You begin to question most aspects of life itself and whether or not anything has any meaning whatsoever. (It’s rather like reading Ulysses or The Scarlet Letter or watching The Room.)

Of course, this could also be because I’ve had a marathon session of True Detective running in the background. (Point of Information to all TD actors: Refusing to speak in a normal tone of voice with normal inflection does NOT actually make what you’re saying have depth anymore than filming slums in washed out tones counts as cinematography.)

Yes, part of the hitting The Wall is letting outside influences influence you. (Especially when I realize I’m a tall man with a scarred face who used to live in the South…)

Also, at this point, you begin to have ethical dilemmas. At first you’re worried about fairness. Is this essay better than the last? Have I marked consistently? That gives way to revenge fantasies: Well this kid was an obnoxious twit in class, that makes his misspellings worse than this other kid’s misspellings. You are tempted to write but, if you’re lucky, refrain from writing “Have you considered public school? It’s easier.” or “The world needs ditch-diggers, too.” That gives way to moral absence: Should I just mark all the essays with random scores and count on most of the students not bothering to follow up? (And if they do follow up, should I lower their scores for questioning me?) That gives way to hallucination: Is that a mistake or do I just think it is? Does it matter?

That eventually gives way to bourbon and haste. (Note: It’s not bourbon time yet as I have to work tomorrow.)

That’s enough of that for now. It’s clearly time for a break. I also have another episode of True Detective to finish before I sleep. (Like I tell my students: Speak up! Enunciate!)