Monday, Monday

I'm sitting here listening to Dar Williams and Ani Difranco croon "comfortably numb" on my itunes, while I muse over the Joan Didion article I read earlier today, the one about grief and mourning in the times magazine-- it's depressing as hell. My grandmother is feeling the way older people do on a rainy day-- that is, weak and creaky-- and I am feeling the way idealistic teacher do on a rainy day, watching their dreams and goals get crushed. I want my kids to learn so badly, and maybe they are learning, but it's too late in so many ways. I have a hard time finding it cute that they don't want to work, to work with me, to exist as productive entitites. The connection between classwork and success is there insofar as they know good grades will get them to college, but they don't recognize the skills that they will need. It;s enough to make me throw my hands up.
But I can't! I have to press on. Blah blah bullshit bullshit. At least I have Dar Williams to help me.