Saturday Morning

Thank you for the gentle breeze and the cool shade that made our morning walk more pleasant. Thank you for the brief reprieve from the August sun that bakes the poor, misguided earthworms on the pavement. Thank you for Saturday morning.
Even as late as 9 o'clock, I still hear the almost mechanical hiss of the cicadas in the oak tree above my roof. Even now, as I sip my coffee, I still feel soiled by this past working week. But I am, above all else, very lucky to have a job.
Yes, I am grateful. There isn't much more to say. I know how much it doesn't matter. I haven't even drawn any pictures to upload here. But I can still express my gratitude for everything that I have, and who would blame me?

I went from having a boring job to a job where I bore people. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I can act like I do. I'm just a piece of raw meat, uncooked and unseasoned. Can I go from a quarter pounder to filet mignon in only one school year? When young minds are the casualties of my ineptitude, it is not time to speculate, but to find out.
This is my confessional. I would never admit to the kids that I don't know what I'm doing. I can only admit it to myself, and to whoever made it this far into my writings. I find that typing is becoming more and more how I pray, as if some kind-hearted benefactor on a transcendent plane is reading these words and being motivated to act on our behalf. If writing really is a form of telepathy, then we are linked right now, cortex to cortex.
Belief is mystery. It is better to be mystified than certain. Certainty can lead to narrow-mindedness. A mind really is like a parachute, it really does work only when it is open. "Transparent to transcendence". Yes, better to let the Light shine through than to be opaque.
Help me to be more than just a dud. Help me to inspire, to motivate, to encourage. I have 26 different young lives intersecting all at once, and I have to give them a sign post. I can't treat it like something unimportant, I can't say that it doesn't matter.

The sketchbook is closed. Maybe it too can only work while open. You don't read a book simply by staring at the cover.