What No One Ever Told Me . . .

I don't talk a lot about my job. One reason is that I teach, and student information and experiences are confidential. But this year starts my ninth (wow, did I just say ninth?) year of teaching school. Some years have been more challenging than others, but when all comes down to it, I've realized that I've not only survived every single year of teaching (as is evidenced by this crazy blog), but I've also learned from every single student I've taught (how's that for a run-on sentence?). I'm not a perfect teacher, and I've made mistakes. I'm human, but I like to think that I've grown a lot from the naive 22 year old that started out in Pre-K a few (or more) years back. I've been mulling this post over in my mind for quite some time. It's not about any one class or any one student, but rather it's a conglomeration of what I've learned from teaching.

So without further ado, I present "What No One Ever Told Me" (a.k.a. "What I've Learned from Teaching") . . .

I spent four years in college. I earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Interdisciplinary Studies. I minored in Math and Reading. I spent numerous hours helping and practicing in various grade levels and classrooms. I took Child Development, Classroom Management, Child Literacy, Child Psych, Survey of Exceptionalities, Number Theory, and Evolution of Math to name a few. I passed my certification exams without any problems. When I graduated in May of 2003, I was ready to teach. I had all the job qualifications under my belt. I could create lesson plans with the best of them. How hard could it be to teach reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic?

That is a laughable question now. Teaching is the easy part. What no one ever told me was that I would become emotionally invested in every child that walked through my door, some more than others, but all to some extent. No one told me that Number Theory wasn't going to help much with a child who is heartbroken. No one told me that Child Development doesn't apply when a child is starved for attention. No told me that both laughter and tears were part of the deal. No one told me that four year olds don't know when they're about to vomit (my one and only year in Pre-K). No one told me that I'd deal with the most extraordinary kids you could ever imagine. No one told me that when it seemed the roughest, and when the stress was the most intense, I'd need to push just a little harder. No one told me that I'd marvel at what these kids can accomplish. No one told me that I would be a mentor, a counselor, a social director, a sometimes parent, and a teacher. Nope, no one told me any of that. I just thought I was signing up for reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic.

If I've learned anything over the last eight years, it's that that college degree that I worked so hard to earn was just the beginning of my learning experience. I'm in no way devaluing that degree. I busted my rear end to earn it, and minoring in Math almost killed me (no joke). But in the end, it was just a precursor to the real learning experience. I don't know where I'll be in eight years, but today, I know that no matter how challenging it may be, I'm where God wants me to be right now. I've learned that you can't hand out consequences without hugs, that a little understanding goes a long way, that compassion and empathy should be job qualifications for teachers, that test scores aren't the end-all and don't necessarily correlate with a child's future success (yep, I said it), that praying for my students goes a long way toward helping them, and finally, I've learned that I still have a heck of a lot left to learn.

These Boots (ummm . . . shoes) Ain't Made for Walkin' . . .

Disclaimer: I blame the meaningless ramblings of the following post and the horrific grammar in the title on the fact that I am virtually brain dead.

Okay, here's the deal. I'm not sure if I have a brain cell left in this head of mine. First of all, no one in their right mind voluntarily gets up at 5:30 in the morning. If you are hopping out of bed all happy and Sunshine Susie before seven then I think you need to have your head examined. I'm just saying.

It's only Tuesday and only the second day of the school year, and I'm plumb wore out. It has nothing to do with the kids. It's just that my feet, back, head, throat, and everything else that can hurt does hurt (slight exaggeration? . . . maybe). I haven't had to think or talk this much since May. And I talk a lot on most days of the year. I may or may not even talk to myself on occasion. Now thinking? Well, it depends on who you're talking to.

So here's the main reason my entire body is in the throes of pain at this very moment, I wore heels to school yesterday. Occasionally (or like once a week), I feel the need to do something stupid like wear heels. Have y'all seen fourth graders lately? They're like seven and a half feet tall. I'm not. In all honesty, it doesn't matter. After eight years of teaching I have the "teacher" look down pat . . . whatever that means. Back to the heels. The heels looked cute so I wore them. Thankfully, I'm starting to get feeling back in my little toes. Apparently, the angle of these particular shoes constricted the blood flow to my toes. Hence rendering them feelingless. I also have absolutely no arch in my foot and weak ankles which frequently give way and almost cause me to fall. The operative word being almost. To date I haven't fallen and when my ankle (or ankles) gives way, I just keep walking as if I have no clue that it almost snapped in two. All of which leads into the fact that I probably shouldn't wear heels. But do I let that stop me? Are you kidding? Cuteness reigns supreme on Mondays, Tuesdays, and sometimes Wednesdays (depends on how the week is going). By Thursday and Friday common sense has kicked in and sensible shoes are the star of the show.

Not to worry though. By next Monday, the feeling will be back in my toes. My feet, legs, and back will no longer hurt. And I'll have completely forgotten how painful heels are. Thus forcing me to strive for cuteness once again. Maybe next week I'll wear these . . . or maybe I'll just wear them tomorrow. I don't have any brain cells left. Remember?

Us vs. Them . . . Can't We All Just Get Along?

Sorry if I completely grossed you out yesterday with my tale of a tail (I promise that's my last cheesy "tail" pun). I have a high threshold for grossness (I teach 4th grade) so sometimes I forget that others aren't quite as tolerant as me. Oops.

Anyway, things are moving along. I think Patrick is going to run (or drive . . . ha!ha! . . . I crack me up) the papers to the Secretary of State's office tomorrow to get apostilled. I'm curious to see exactly what this apostille is, and what makes it so stinkin' official.

Work is as usual flying by. My room is not ready, but I do have my lesson plans done for the first week. And all of the long range planning is done. Hallelujah!

Speaking of work (like the smooth segue? pretty good huh?), there's been a lot of talk lately about working moms vs. stay at home moms and vice versa. I'm not sure who started the whole competition, but somehow I don't think it was a mom because, if you hadn't noticed, most moms "work" whether it be inside the home or outside the home or both (I'm sure there are a few out there that lead a life of leisure, but I don't know them personally). Honestly, I don't think I have to justify why I work or even the fact that I work, to anyone but myself, my husband, and my children. But still, it always gets me all riled up when people think and/or imply that I'm less of a mother/wife because I work.

The truth is, I think it is a completely personal decision whether you choose to work or not. When people ask me why I work my short (and snappy) answer is usually, "to pay the bills". But in all honesty, there is more to it than that. I work so that we can pay the bills and still live somewhat comfortably. In addition, my husband is a self employed business owner so it is always good to have one steady income coming in at all times. Finally, while there are plenty of days when I would like to stay home, I like my job. I have a passion for education, and I like working with kids. That doesn't mean that I plan on teaching school forever, but for now, I know I'm where I'm supposed to be. And no matter what I do, my most important jobs will always be being a wife and a mother.

So why tell you all this? Because I know that there are moms out there that feel guilty about going to work everyday, and I know there are other moms who feel like maybe they are settling by being a stay at home mom, and I don't think that either one should feel bad about their choice. If I had one word of advice for a new mother facing the whole work vs. stay home decision, it would be do what's best for you and your family both financially (sorry girls but that's an important one) and emotionally, and don't let others make you feel guilty about whichever choice you make. And that's all I have to say on the topic. Anyone that wants to chime in feel free.

Back in the Groove

Well, ladies and gentlemen (or gentleman as the case may be) it's official. Summer is over . . . at least for us teachers. Too bad it's still six million degrees outside. No seriously, when I got in my car a little bit ago, my thermometer read 109. Ridiculous!

Today Andrew started school full time and was so excited to see some of friends from his old school. For me, it wasn't an "official" workday, but I did head in to work for a couple of hours. I got some "stuff" done, but spent a large part of the morning catching up with friends. Tomorrow we begin the process of trainings, evaluating data, and putting together long term plans and goals for the new school year. It's thrilling I tell you . . . thrilling!

After finishing up at work, I went to lunch with my mom, my grandmother, my sister, and Anthony came along for the fun. It was a nice way to end the summer. Unfortunately, I intended to take a couple pictures but as usual, forgot. Maybe next time.

Going back to school means a lot of things. It means alarms going off at 5:45 each morning (not my favorite thing in the world) and early bedtimes (one of my favorite things in the world). It means back to craziness and time crunches. It means that in order to get things done in a timely manner, I have to step up the organization a notch. Every week at school I create lesson plans, and to a lesser extent I try to create a "lesson plan" for home too. I create a flexible meal schedule for each month, and a laundry and cleaning schedule for each week. I do have a lady that comes every two weeks and does all the major cleaning, but things like my kitchen have to be cleaned each and every day. And of course, the dust and messes that collect in the meantime can't go unchecked. I also keep a daily calendar of things that have to be done for both work and home. Yes, I'm a crazy Type A personality, but without some sort of plan, I'd probably come home everyday, and plop on the couch with a carton of chocolate ice cream and never get anything accomplished. Not a pretty picture . . .  I'll tell you that much.

So, if you notice that my blog posts are fewer and further between, I've not fallen off the face of the earth. I'm just trying to get back in the groove of things.

Fits, Work, and Animals with a Little Vinegar Thrown In

So I threw a big little fit yesterday. I'm over it. I still want those approval letters yesterday, but there's no use spending my days and nights in a bad mood about the whole thing.

This is my last weekend before I officially go back to work. I say officially because I've been working on my classroom while Andrew is in school on Tues. & Thurs, and I've also been working on timelines from home quite a bit. I won't go into to all the boring, gory details, but essentially, every time a curriculum changes or the state changes the "test" (which they are currently doing), our timelines for the year have to be revamped. Which is what I've been doing. Yesterday, I had two computers going at the same time. Mine, because I was using it to research and check twitter and facebook, and my work computer, because it has all the timeline files saved on it. I'll transfer them to the network(?) when I go back to work. A teacher's work is never done . . .

Now that you're bored and drooling all over yourself.

Yesterday, I cleaned out my Keurig with vinegar. Then I ran like a gazillion gallons of water through it. This morning I made my cup of coffee. It tasted liked vinegar. Blech! So now I'm running another gazillion gallons of water through the stupid Keurig. My house smells like dill pickles. Nice . . .

Doing a complete 180 here. Have you ever met my animals?

This is Marty. We call him Cat. My mom found him at the post office a little over seven years ago. He was probably about six weeks old. My dad calls him Cliff Claven because he was a postal kitty. He still is a postal kitty. He is crazy and pretty much hates the world. He likes me, he tolerates Andrew, and he fights with Patrick. Which is why we love him. Yeah, I know that made no sense.

These two beauties are our full bred dachshunds. Lady is the Dapple and she's just over four, and Daisy is the brown one and she's just over six (I think . . . she was given to us). They are both overweight, because the refuse to do anything that requires physical exertion (with the exception of chasing the cat), and they steal food from Andrew.

Lady licks everything. The couch, the floors, the walls, us. It's gross and annoying. She can also be a little on the hyper side especially when guests come over. Her social skills are greatly lacking. She seems to think that everyone wants to be licked and covered in slobber. Which is one of the reasons we still have a crate. On the other hand, she's just about the sweetest dog you'll ever meet, and you can't help but love her once she stops spazzing out.

Daisy, oh sweet loving Daisy. She has issues. Her favorite place in the world is curled up in a blanket on the couch. She gets mad when we leave home, and has been known to unzip the couch cushions and pull all the stuffing out. Which is the other reason we still have a crate. Daisy's other fault is that she hates to go outside so she holds her pee as long as possible (tmi . . . I know). Drives me crazy. I swear she only goes once every 48 hours. Girl needs help. Just the same, don't tell anyone, she's my favorite. She's for the most part a very calm dog and is really protective of Andrew which gets her a check plus plus in my book.

Yes my animals, my dogs in particular, could stand a little obedience training, but since they aren't aggressive and are great with kids, I choose to ignore their annoying faults. Besides, dachshunds are one of the hardest breeds to train. Mostly because they are hard headed, and I don't have the time or the energy to deal with that.