It is the final day of my contract for this school year. It is a teacher work day. Most importantly, there are no students to be seen. Here are some observations:
1. I got to sleep in until 6am instead of 5am! Glorious.
2. I didn't watch a child point to another and hear him say...no, scream, "MISS ROSE!!!!!!!!! HE..."
3. I get to eat lunch at a respectable time like 11:30 or noon, not 10:30am. I also get to enjoy this lunch at a restaurant and it lasts longer than 30 minutes. There are no words.
4. No one in my presence peed their pants. That I know of.
5. I didn't lose my patience, yell at the person, then feel extreme guilt.
6. I didn't have to worry about a child and their permanent brain developement (or lack thereof), and my influence on this development.
7. I was able to sit down when I pleased, have lengthy conversations with someone over the age of 11, and use the restroom at my convenience (without telling another adult about it).
8. I got a 4% raise today.
9. I ate breakfast with adults, sitting at a table, and no one rushed me to get to work.
10. I have 10 weeks to do WHATEVER I FREAKING PLEASE.
Except...no one really needed me today.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
My Job Here is Done
It happens every year in August. I receive my class list of 18-22 Kindergarten students. I laugh and wonder why parents give their child a name with an apostrophe in the middle. I anticipate darling little faces that will accidentally call me "mom." I worry about whether or not someone has given them a pencil and taught them how to write their name. I fear learning disabilities and my own ability in coping, reaching, and teaching them effectively.
Most of them are five year olds filled with curiosity mixed with a slight bit of fear. And I worry about teaching them. Some are four and I'm worried. Some are six and I'm worried. I start writing their names on cubbies and nametags and posters. I call them "angels." I worry. I wonder if I'm capable enough to teach them all the things they need to learn: share, play fair, don't hit, put things back where you found them, wash your hands, hold hands and look both ways. Be respectful, learn independence, take responsibility. Oh, and how to read and add.
I watch them marvel at the inside of a pumpkin, penguins, how a seed grows. I hear them sing songs. I sit with them and explain how and why words rhyme. I listen as they learn to sound out words. I see them manipulate counters as they work a math problem. I try to help and hope I've succeeded.
Then May comes and they are pounds heavier and inches taller. They are more responsible and capable. I watch the miracle of development and know that they would have achieved growth in spite of me. It is my privelege to watch personalities unfold.
I may have yelled one too many times. They may have stomped across the room and acted far less mature than their age should allow. I didn't set expectations. They didn't respect my authority. And then it all comes to a close.
When it is Graduation Day, we walk in to Pomp and Circumstance. They sing "It's a Small World," I call their names, and they walk across the stage. And then I look at Q and D and think, "Man, they ticked me off this year." and my immediate next thought is, "I love them, though." And I do. They are just so fun and so "big boy." That comes from me saying, "Do you want to keep acting like that or do you want to be a BIG BOY?!" And parents come and clap for me and tell me nice things even when I think I'm the worst teacher of all time and I've screwed up their precious child for all of eternity. I receive gifts and meaningful letters that make me choke up because people believe that I made a difference. That is the best part of teaching.
So I give them back reluctantly. I'm reminded that they'll leave me and I've spent more time with them than some of their parents. And I'll forget them and they'll forget me...except for when we run into each other years down the road and for a brief second, we'll remember antics and the most special and formative year in school.
Most of them are five year olds filled with curiosity mixed with a slight bit of fear. And I worry about teaching them. Some are four and I'm worried. Some are six and I'm worried. I start writing their names on cubbies and nametags and posters. I call them "angels." I worry. I wonder if I'm capable enough to teach them all the things they need to learn: share, play fair, don't hit, put things back where you found them, wash your hands, hold hands and look both ways. Be respectful, learn independence, take responsibility. Oh, and how to read and add.
I watch them marvel at the inside of a pumpkin, penguins, how a seed grows. I hear them sing songs. I sit with them and explain how and why words rhyme. I listen as they learn to sound out words. I see them manipulate counters as they work a math problem. I try to help and hope I've succeeded.
Then May comes and they are pounds heavier and inches taller. They are more responsible and capable. I watch the miracle of development and know that they would have achieved growth in spite of me. It is my privelege to watch personalities unfold.
I may have yelled one too many times. They may have stomped across the room and acted far less mature than their age should allow. I didn't set expectations. They didn't respect my authority. And then it all comes to a close.
When it is Graduation Day, we walk in to Pomp and Circumstance. They sing "It's a Small World," I call their names, and they walk across the stage. And then I look at Q and D and think, "Man, they ticked me off this year." and my immediate next thought is, "I love them, though." And I do. They are just so fun and so "big boy." That comes from me saying, "Do you want to keep acting like that or do you want to be a BIG BOY?!" And parents come and clap for me and tell me nice things even when I think I'm the worst teacher of all time and I've screwed up their precious child for all of eternity. I receive gifts and meaningful letters that make me choke up because people believe that I made a difference. That is the best part of teaching.
So I give them back reluctantly. I'm reminded that they'll leave me and I've spent more time with them than some of their parents. And I'll forget them and they'll forget me...except for when we run into each other years down the road and for a brief second, we'll remember antics and the most special and formative year in school.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Paxil Commercial
You know that commercial with that sad, white stone that hops around? The one for depression medication? Welcome to my life today.
The Spurs AND the Aggies lost yesterday. What is going on in the world?
And I still have two more days this week of teaching yet my brain has already resigned for the year. Every year that I have been a student or a teacher, school was out before Memorial Day. The great district I work in has decided they want us to work for 8 days after the holiday, which is practically the same as shoving bamboo shoots up my fingernails. I sat in my car in the parking lot for 7 minutes this morning trying to convince myself to come inside the building. I lied to myself and said that no one would cry or bleed or whine. Everyone would do things the first time I ask. I made it to the foyer of the building before all of those dreams were dashed.
And the Aggies and Spurs lost. I fully expect the Apocolypse.
The Spurs AND the Aggies lost yesterday. What is going on in the world?
And I still have two more days this week of teaching yet my brain has already resigned for the year. Every year that I have been a student or a teacher, school was out before Memorial Day. The great district I work in has decided they want us to work for 8 days after the holiday, which is practically the same as shoving bamboo shoots up my fingernails. I sat in my car in the parking lot for 7 minutes this morning trying to convince myself to come inside the building. I lied to myself and said that no one would cry or bleed or whine. Everyone would do things the first time I ask. I made it to the foyer of the building before all of those dreams were dashed.
And the Aggies and Spurs lost. I fully expect the Apocolypse.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Moderation is Key
I have an addictive personality. When I find something I like, I tend to take it to the extreme. This is the case with hobbies, food, and everyday chores. Overkill.
It runs in my family, too. My dad knows no moderation. He'll buy 3 tubes of toothpaste instead of one. He'll order sopapillas for the entire table when he is the only one that wants to eat them. Overkill.
When we gather for a family event, we have 4 dessert choices instead of one, and we eat the entire cow instead of a couple of ribs. Most often in our family, it's the whole pig instead of a few slices of ham. Let's remember the Great Easter Throwdown of '07 which saw me consuming so much pork that my entire body swelled for 3 days. Overkill.
Though, the puffy feeling was worth every piece of honey-glazed goodness.
As you can read, I use excess most often when it comes to food. But I do it with hobbies such as running. I'll run 4 miles when 2 would keep my heart in good condition. Most recently, my obsessive tendencies and addictive personality has manifested when it comes to cleaning. This would normally be acceptable but yesterday I realized that I was doing something completely irrational.
I really like to Squee-Gee the glass in my shower when I turn off the water. I REALLY like it. It keeps the glass relatively spot-free and then I have to windex the glass less often. Bonus. Well, after my shower yesterday, I Squee-Geed the glass and then proceeded to the walls. When I finished with the walls, I had a feeling inside of completion. So, I then Squee-Geed the FLOOR of the shower. There was not a drop of water left in that shower.
Overkill. Mixed with feelings of accomplishment, pride, and pristene cleanliness.
Like I said...addictive personality, knows no moderation, takes things to the extreme. Is this normal behavior? I'll ask myself that next time I'm Squee-Geeing the commode or kitchen sink.
Heaven forbid!
It runs in my family, too. My dad knows no moderation. He'll buy 3 tubes of toothpaste instead of one. He'll order sopapillas for the entire table when he is the only one that wants to eat them. Overkill.
When we gather for a family event, we have 4 dessert choices instead of one, and we eat the entire cow instead of a couple of ribs. Most often in our family, it's the whole pig instead of a few slices of ham. Let's remember the Great Easter Throwdown of '07 which saw me consuming so much pork that my entire body swelled for 3 days. Overkill.
Though, the puffy feeling was worth every piece of honey-glazed goodness.
As you can read, I use excess most often when it comes to food. But I do it with hobbies such as running. I'll run 4 miles when 2 would keep my heart in good condition. Most recently, my obsessive tendencies and addictive personality has manifested when it comes to cleaning. This would normally be acceptable but yesterday I realized that I was doing something completely irrational.
I really like to Squee-Gee the glass in my shower when I turn off the water. I REALLY like it. It keeps the glass relatively spot-free and then I have to windex the glass less often. Bonus. Well, after my shower yesterday, I Squee-Geed the glass and then proceeded to the walls. When I finished with the walls, I had a feeling inside of completion. So, I then Squee-Geed the FLOOR of the shower. There was not a drop of water left in that shower.
Overkill. Mixed with feelings of accomplishment, pride, and pristene cleanliness.
Like I said...addictive personality, knows no moderation, takes things to the extreme. Is this normal behavior? I'll ask myself that next time I'm Squee-Geeing the commode or kitchen sink.
Heaven forbid!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Here and Now
Far too often do I think about tomorrow. Or the next thing. What do I need to do? I can't wait for what is next! Oh no, what am I going to do about this? Looking toward the future is a mixture of worry, fear, excitement, anticipation, and longing for me.
And it's not wrong to think about tomorrow. I should plan for tomorrow but live for today. I forget about where I am...the here and now. I lose sight of the people and places that I am currently experiencing, all in anticipation of the next great thing.
Because I teach small children, I easily focus on the here and now with them. I am focused on who they are today in my classroom. But, I am also preparing them for the future. For their tomorrow. Often, I hope tomorrow is better than today.
Like when one little boy made me want to drop-kick him on Tuesday.
The important thing to remember is that I didn't. Yet.
Kidding. Sort of.
It is a struggle for me to revel in a good experience because I gloss over it and look for my next adventure. I guess I never want to be disappointed. And nobody does. I think it is crucial for me to remain alert and be present. So I'm going to try. I will try by not wondering what is next and just "enjoying it for what it is." So many trusted friends have told me that in the last few months. And you know what? They were right.
Cousin, SNL, and TV have all told me that and it only took 4 months and 7 different ways to hear it before I understood and obeyed. I'm selective like that.
So, I'm going to enjoy my time with my 18 children today because I only have 12 more days with them. I'm going to enjoy the hustle and bustle to the end of my week. I'm going to enjoy time with a friend this evening and not worry about what happens next.
What will you enjoy doing in the present?
And it's not wrong to think about tomorrow. I should plan for tomorrow but live for today. I forget about where I am...the here and now. I lose sight of the people and places that I am currently experiencing, all in anticipation of the next great thing.
Because I teach small children, I easily focus on the here and now with them. I am focused on who they are today in my classroom. But, I am also preparing them for the future. For their tomorrow. Often, I hope tomorrow is better than today.
Like when one little boy made me want to drop-kick him on Tuesday.
The important thing to remember is that I didn't. Yet.
Kidding. Sort of.
It is a struggle for me to revel in a good experience because I gloss over it and look for my next adventure. I guess I never want to be disappointed. And nobody does. I think it is crucial for me to remain alert and be present. So I'm going to try. I will try by not wondering what is next and just "enjoying it for what it is." So many trusted friends have told me that in the last few months. And you know what? They were right.
Cousin, SNL, and TV have all told me that and it only took 4 months and 7 different ways to hear it before I understood and obeyed. I'm selective like that.
So, I'm going to enjoy my time with my 18 children today because I only have 12 more days with them. I'm going to enjoy the hustle and bustle to the end of my week. I'm going to enjoy time with a friend this evening and not worry about what happens next.
What will you enjoy doing in the present?
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
You Be the Judge
A little girl drew this at the science center today.
She said it was a butterfly.
Again, everything you ever needed to know, you learned in Kindergarten.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Vulnerable
There is this band that I like called Secondhand Serenade. Actually, from the research I've done, it's just one guy. But I have no clue why he goes by that. Perhaps his parents were cruel and named him that. Like the parents of a kid that I saw at a birthday party this weekend. The parents, Mr. and Mrs. McCauley, named their kid Caul. Caul McCauley. On his birth certificate. His sister's birth certificate says Molly. Molly McCauley. They were cruel, horrible people and I felt sorry for their children in fast forward. Because middle school's gonna be a witch for them.
I digress.
Secondhand Serenade is great. Soulful, thoughtful, soothing yet passionate. I recommend it. I think I'm going to buy the CD. Do people do that anymore? I have no clue how the iTunes phenomenon works. I'm sure it is smarter, for whatever technological reason, but I can't committ. So I'm just going to go out and buy the CD. Just like I've been doing since 1994 when I got the Boyz II Men CD. That was my first. Complete with "I'll Make Love to You," "On Bended Knee," and "Water Runs Dry." Oh how I loved "Water Runs Dry."
I digress.
Secondhand Serenade has a song called "Vulnerable." It's just perfection in the musical form. I love the melody and the lyrics. I recommend going to www.myspace.com/secondhandserenade and clicking on the song. My favorite part is the line that says, "Just because you hurt doesn't mean you shouldn't bleed."
Seriously? Nobody ever told me this. I started pondering this line last night. Sometimes doctors make patients bleed for good reasons. I'm no MD, but maybe stuff like reducing swelling in the brain, lancing things, etc. Again...not an MD. My point is this. I've been too scared for too long to bleed. I'm gunshy about getting hurt again. But just because I've been hurt doesn't mean it wasn't good. It doesn't mean I shouldn't have bled a little. And oh how I bled.
For me, I'm afraid of bleeding and hurting in relationships. But it is not limited to this. What do you bleed about? Your children? Your parents? Work? Responsibilities? Life is jam-packed with all sorts of things that can hurt us. But sometimes the blood is good to get us to where we need to be.
FYI...I bleed maroon.
I digress.
Secondhand Serenade is great. Soulful, thoughtful, soothing yet passionate. I recommend it. I think I'm going to buy the CD. Do people do that anymore? I have no clue how the iTunes phenomenon works. I'm sure it is smarter, for whatever technological reason, but I can't committ. So I'm just going to go out and buy the CD. Just like I've been doing since 1994 when I got the Boyz II Men CD. That was my first. Complete with "I'll Make Love to You," "On Bended Knee," and "Water Runs Dry." Oh how I loved "Water Runs Dry."
I digress.
Secondhand Serenade has a song called "Vulnerable." It's just perfection in the musical form. I love the melody and the lyrics. I recommend going to www.myspace.com/secondhandserenade and clicking on the song. My favorite part is the line that says, "Just because you hurt doesn't mean you shouldn't bleed."
Seriously? Nobody ever told me this. I started pondering this line last night. Sometimes doctors make patients bleed for good reasons. I'm no MD, but maybe stuff like reducing swelling in the brain, lancing things, etc. Again...not an MD. My point is this. I've been too scared for too long to bleed. I'm gunshy about getting hurt again. But just because I've been hurt doesn't mean it wasn't good. It doesn't mean I shouldn't have bled a little. And oh how I bled.
For me, I'm afraid of bleeding and hurting in relationships. But it is not limited to this. What do you bleed about? Your children? Your parents? Work? Responsibilities? Life is jam-packed with all sorts of things that can hurt us. But sometimes the blood is good to get us to where we need to be.
FYI...I bleed maroon.
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