School

Leisure. School. The two words are linked but bear no relationship in this wonderful generation. Mind you, it was probably worse when I went to school. Seemed like an aweful lot of work for leisure times.
Well the holidays are almost over. The work of school begins. The final term commences with exams - students have diligently turned up for tutorials during the holidays.
I guess this is a different school. Independent. World class. Yet full of real human issues.
That's my part in the puzzle. The relationships. The injustices. The attempts to foster basic kindness while students (called learners in my home country) press the boundaries to their extremes.
And then there are teachers. Educators. A mixed bag. In a special character school that needs some work in figuring that out.
Well I've been at school for decades. I plod through my 5th qualification which will give me a bit of paper. And then there is the school of marriage. Of raising families. Of emigration or immigration - and I can never spell either of those - the geographical and cultural leaving and cleaving which brave souls have attempted.
It's Saturday morning - almost midday. The rest of the dwellers in this funny little house are asleep in bed. Even the cat lies sprawled next to me, dreaming of feline heaven and endless fresh food.
I am trying to complete a project (called an assignment in the old country) on ESOL and the delights of Grammar.
Ah well. School. Leisure.
It's a grand old life indeed. As long as you're asleep.