What a rotten blogger I've turned out to be! I had such fun and entertainment daily plotting how to share the highlights of my day. I can no longer sacrifice the precious brain energy that sort of thing would require.
School has started. Oh, you devil that haunts me throughout the months of June and July. (As we go back on August 4th, I really don't feel able to include that in the mix anymore).
I thought I LIKED 2nd grade. I remember thinking they were funny...and enthusiastic...and quirky...and even cute once in awhile. But last year was the last I spent with a group I'd had for two grades. And I should have known better. Oh, they were beautifully trained and I loved each one to what may have been an unprofessional degree. I honestly looked forward to seeing them every day. I knew they were money from the start. I said good bye to my well trained 10 year old fourth graders and have been delivered back to a room full of 7 year old monkeys. Chatter monkeys. Flatulent chatter monkeys. Are...You...Kidding...Me???
I may be too old for this. Or simply too tired. I've lost my Romper Room voice and patience with random anecdotes. I no longer contain my sarcasm like I used to. My personality elastic band has worn out. "David, unless you've got a diamond wedged somewhere in your sinus cavity you have two seconds to stop the nose spelunking and slap some hand sanitizer on that finger." I am not sunshine-y. I am the dark nemesis of Mary Poppins. They have worn...me...out.
On the plus side, I've started writing an educational resource for elementary parents, called "When the teachers tells you _____________, what she really means is ____________"
I truly believe it's going to save lives. "Teacher says: Melissa struggles to maintain attention during instructional time. Teacher means: The only struggle going on is inside the teacher who is doing her best not to reach out and snatch the face off of Melissa who has somehow once again managed to find herself upside down and under the desk during explanation time." Boy, oh boy. We wouldn't need 12 hours of parent teacher conference time. It could start a revolution.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Amen, sister. Kindergarteners are kicking my ass. Either I'm going to be a fabulous actress by the end of the year or I'll be in prison.
You are now officially in the perfect mindset to become a mother. Go Girl!!! The flatulent part cracked me up, as my son (fifth grade) came home on the first day complaining of a new classmate who was particularly foul smelling. As a former teacher, I used the line "who had beans for breakfast?" more times than I want to remember.
Post a Comment