I think it should be “like a chicken with its head cut off,” but I don’t like chickens much. Unless they’re on a plate and I didn’t have to cook them.
The point is, I’m Entirely Too Busy. Those of you out there who for even a fleeting moment considered teaching because “you get summers off” should hang out with me for a week or so in July. Or June. And August.
The National Writing Project Summer Institute is going beautifully and I love every single second of it. I just haven’t had a minute to gather my thoughts for a while. I haven’t done the laundry, either, which is what I’m going to do right this very minute.
In the meantime, I’ve found this video on killing creativity in the schools. Yes, it’s long. Yes, it’s worth it. My little gift to you while I separate handwashables from the towels.
No Telling 
You do mean “chicken”, right?Not rooster.
You KNOW I hate chickens. I don’t care if they’re roosters or what. They’re all beaky, nasty things.
Not only are chickens nasty, but they scare the crap out of me. However, Uncle Melvin (bless his heart) has one that scratches around the chicken yard (or whatever chickens do) while the rooster sits on her eggs. Wonder how she managed that?Also, I appreciate your dedication to properly sorting your laundry. It literally made me smile because there are so few who really get it.
Proper laundry sorting is a precise science and shouldn’t be attempted by the unschooled. All manner of clothing tragedies can result from a careless toss of the wrong sock into the wrong pile. And hang-drying? Now, there’s a topic…Uncle Melvin’s rooster is another matter. I can’t decide whether that bird is going above and beyond his sex, or if he’s just too lazy to go scratching for himself. As much as I don’t like thinking about chickens, I’m going to have to give this one more thought.Either way, I’ll bet that gal scratching around the yard wouldn’t let a sitting-rooster anywhere near the laundry room.