Snow Day

It snowed all day! I wrapped the pups in their polar fleece and took them out several times. Their collective reaction to the snow goes something like this: "SNOW! SNOW! SNOw! SNoh!? S-NO! snOH MY GOD IT"S COLD. . .Let's go inside and have a treat!" Then five minutes later a scratch at my leg because they want to go see the white stuff again. During intermediate botherings I open the door to the deck. One puppy at a time they bounce out into the drifts and take about three leaps before their bellies get cold, they run inside, and shake the snow all over the bed. Suddenly my excitement for the snow feigns as quickly as theirs.

Meanwhile I spent the day snowed in rehearsing for my Babar show this weekend. It is so hard to find motivation to work in the middle of your own living room. What with electronics and puppies and food. I feel like I know the show pretty well, but I wish I had worked a little harder. I got to talk to three of my good friends tonight, all of whom write brilliant things. All in all, it was a good night.

For those of you who followed some of my earlier posts about the student I'm tutoring, I'm afraid I'm growing less optimistic. Our sessions together become more like cruel and unusual punishment each time we meet. She doesn't want to work. I don't want to fight. The dogs don't want to be a distraction any more, and her guardians don't want to discuss our sessions with me at all. I keep trying to get a moment with the girl's parents to discuss a string of things I notice, but they refuse to have a conversation away from her ears. The result is that any difficulties I try to adress become another excuse to yell at the poor girl. I think perhaps if they would take an interest other than anger, and start piloting this young girls education in a real way, there might be somewhere to go. Since this isn't the case, I have come to represent an extension of the angry parents, and one more thing for her to fail with. On one hand I feel like structuring our sessions around being an ally to this little girl, and see what work she gets done out of actual desire might be helpful to her; but, this begins to tread more counseling territory than tutoring, and while I'm quite intuitive, I'm simply not qualified. On the other hand, If I can't find a point at which she wants to learn, and foster an environment where she works for herself, all of the work we do becomes a means to an end. The end. She will do anything to make it stop, and I feel as if no real information is capable of penetrating. What I really want to do is grab her parents and shake the shit out of them until they realize that yelling is not working. I think that is probably out of the question. Any-hoodle. . .

The white shroud has made all seem peaceful and calm around here, and I am going to curl up in front of the great mind-sucking box. Sweet Dreams all!