Methodically, I put on my clothes to the entrancing tunes of U2. Mechanically, I breathe according the the pranayama taught to me by my mother. Ritualistically, I recite in my mind the crescendos and forczendos that would be essential in this field of education, while gathering my spellbooks that are scattered around the floor, bringing to mind an old craggy recluse wizard in his tower, never bothering to put them in order.

The spellbooks of the bard.

Tugging the last lace of a well-worn shoe, I trudge off into the sun, to prove the worth of the last year's toil.