I taught the workshop on multicultural literature again tonight. This time there were more folk, more questions, and lots of discussion. I truly enjoyed teaching and the exchange that comes in workshop settings.

I did have a bit of trouble finding the right room, trouble that ended up in an asthma attack since I had to drag over 100 books up to the third floor only to cart them back down to the second floor and across the building. The directions I had were somewhat inadequate.

Having left my inhalers in the car, I ended up jamming the Epipen into my thigh in the hopes that I might recover enough to teach. Although I was trembling from the drug for the first hour, I did manage to go on to my workshop.

By the time it was over and I arrived back home, I was ready for a month's rest, but tomorrow is the big expo. I have to get up at 5:30 AM (I know...you're laughing because you don't think that is even possible for me).

Despite the fatigue, I spent some time thinking about the books I shared and our conversation. We talked about history and race and ethics. In exploring such, the attendees learned about more than just books and were thankful for the experience. The person in charge of training does not think much of my idea of offering workshops for the foster parents. Yet I have seen, twice now, parents completely engaged in the topic and in the learning process. How could that not be a very good thing?

I miss teaching. I really do.