I am grateful for school. I love B, but it sure is nice to get a break from him. He loves preschool, and I love him going to preschool. He was having a huge tantrum this morning over the child gate in the hall being back up (had it down over the weekend, to move TVs, but had to put it back up for babysitting P) and his entire mood reversed once I mentioned getting ready for school. Angry child became excited child. I loved school when I was little. That love may not have lasted to high school, but I never hated going. It had its benefits. I can't say much for continued education though. Never experienced the college life, and haven't even done much online. Though I am grateful that my husband getting an Associates Degree resulted in a raise. So school is good, even though I'm not always good at it.
On a (somewhat) school related note, I wrote the following Blotz poem for English sometime during Junior High. The form is all about alliteration and the imagination.
He lives in a pink pagoda in Pakistan.
He eats pachysandra plants, pickled parsnip, pancakes, and papayas.
He likes pale pansies, Polaroid prints, perfect pandas, and purple polka-dotted packages.
He’s a passive pachyderm who paraphrases paragraphs and is a paraprofessional in parenting.
He played part of a piano piece with a papa peacock from Paris.