I found $2 in change in my slippers this morning. The odd boon, unexpected as it was, colored the rest of the day in a rather peculiar way. Had it been that long since I had worn my slippers? How did I get dollar coins anyway? Nobody uses those except airports. Since when did slippers accrue interest? One might expect to find the forgotten $20 bill in the pocket of the recently-unearthed light jacket, not worn since last Autumn, but to find cash in your slippers is a truly strange experience.
Catch as catch can, I suppose. Convince your attractive classmate to join you for impromptu burritos. Impose a self-invitation to your friend’s game night. Take those fifteen minutes you’d spend waiting for the bus, and walk across the square, and turn those two slipper-found dollars into a delicious mint brownie from the local café. And then find you’ve locked yourself out of your apartment. Whoops.
I digress, but there was never much focus here to begin with. That meandering exploration of the unexpected, which leads you to great explorations on one side, and causes such squandered opportunities on the other, makes for a suitable meta-theme to kick things off here. This will, one day, become a chronicle and journal of what I learn from teaching, and the unexpected elements of the classroom prevail upon us to sharpen and develop ourselves. But, until then, I hope it will remind you to check your sleepwear for cash.
