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| Did we do good..? |
In the night a storm has blown in, a lively sort,
whips rain and wrestles tall trees. Some storms have an element of brooding:
the ones you wait for are usually that way.
Yesterday we made the drag to Bristol, clutching
coffee.
Since Friday the Academy has been busy with the people
in the white training suits; they have been running up and down the stairs,
packed with fears and hopes. They have been leaking sweat, and some tears.
At the foot of the stairs the breaking-horse sits. At
the top on the left is the thin room, perfect for queuing, where the theory
questions linger and sometimes answers come even under the pressure of those secluded
hopes, those self defeating fears. At the top on the right is the room with the
wooden floor, the main show. Everything else is peripheral. Here, observed, you
test yourself.
If you were there, you know how you think you did. If
your students were there, you know how you think they did. But the official
stamp is withheld. Tuesday, the results release.
All day the storm lulls, flares, throws the rain about.
Back to night and the panes are lashed, the fat-trunked ash tree cracks its
sticks fighting back. Indoors we sit, tapping fingers on wood.
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| Let's dare to hope! |
Comments
Did this post have a different title at one point? For some reason the title is sticking out for me more--in a good way.