Overboard?

I complain about my job... a lot. So let me start off with a dose of cute for you. Prepare for a Centimeter Creature. My kids had to create a creature...later they had to measure the arms, legs, tentacles etc. for practice with a ruler. They got wayyy into it. It was awesome.

They always told us in school that one way to get kids interested is to make things relevant for them. So I try to use people and events in my life to make connections for the kids. Example: They know all about lovely Luka because I use him in writing frequently. He's had more poems written about him than any other dog can claim. Seriously. So when I had to teach letter writing I planned, drafted, edited, and revised a letter to my dearest friend Anna- ever so gently asking her to return to NC. (It was a letter of REQUEST after all.)

Then a few days later I had a little bullying incident in my classroom. I borrowed a genius lesson plan from my coworkers that involves drawing a picture of your best friend. As you talk to your best friend you give her compliments and add smiles and rainbows and sunshine. Then you start to say mean things to her instead. Each time you say something mean, you crumple her up a little until she is wadded into a little ball of paper. Then, you slowly start to apologize for everything you said. You flatten her out as best you can and ask the kids "What's different now?" With eyes as wide as saucers my kids replied that Anna was all wrinkly because I was mean to her. Even though I apologized to her and she flattened out SOME...I will never get her all smooth again. And THAT'S because every time you say a mean thing to someone you leave a tiny wrinkle in them that never goes away- even if you apologize. They may forgive you but its important to remember that  mean words can hurt forever.

 

(Insert Full House music here.)

It. Was. Awesome.

It wasn't until this past weekend when I was looking through my kids'  center work from the week that I realized I may have gone a little "Anna-Crazy" in my room.  Check it out.

 

But, hey, I guess it means they are listening. Sometimes.

Today is a good day. Today I feel like I am adequate at my job and maybe I made a difference in the life of my students.

There are days where it is very easy to forget why I became a teacher. The days that paperwork outweighs the time I spent with my kids. The days the kids talked more than I taught. The days that Autism, ADHD, sensory disorders, and learning disabilities seem insurmountable rather than just a part of the package.

Today was not one of those days. Today I laughed with my students, played with my students, and learned with my students. I was a math expert, a reading consultant, a caterpillar wrangler, and a sidewalk chalk artist. I was a mediator, a therapist, a first aid aficionado, an organizational consultant, a hairdresser, a cheerleader, a peacekeeper, and a traffic director. Before and after school I also managed to be a professional, a collaborator, a data collector, and even a friend as I sat and laughed with my team.

Today I remembered why it is all worth it. I remembered why I love my job.

Today I realized how lucky I am to be where I want to be, with the friends I chose for myself, in a profession I was meant to be a part of.

If that wasn't enough- this is what I came home to yesterday...

And on top of all of that- my apartment is clean. Clearly the planets are aligned.
(The only thing missing is YOU, Anna Morgante)

Blogging = low man on totem pole. oops.

This blog was supposed to be an a-mazing way for me to vent and write down all of the awesome things that I am doing in this, my first year as a grown-up.

I. reek. of. failure.

Let me begin by confessing that today is NOT a good day for me to write a blog. I have a bad case of the whiney-ass-sads. And no, there is nothing you can do to help me out. I am just in the dark and twisty place and this will work itself out. I am stressing over some things that I have no control over and some things that I DO have control over and just don't know how to actually CONTROL them.

You dig?

Perhaps not. Perhaps everything I am typing is appearing in strange-premenstrual girl language that is only decipherable by soulmates (hello Anna), because I feel like my mouth is moving but nothing is making sense.

Maybe this is the reason why my 21 (holy *&^% that is a lot of kids) first graders stared at me today as if they had never before heard this strange direction I was giving them like, "Put your name on your paper", or "go get your bookbag to pack up" and the ever important "Do NOT put that in the toilet, you will flood the bathroom."

No, you can't make this stuff up.


I have this not-so-unfounded fear that tomorrow my administrators will find me unconscious amid a ring of seven year olds clad in face paint belting an incantation and waving their safety scissors.

Tonight is a good night to watch Bridget Jones and laugh at a woman that has way more issues (albeit hilarious issues) than I do. Alas, tonight is Tuesday which means it's time for LOST.

But, maybe that's better. Let's face it. Those guys are way more screwed than any of us.