I try to listen to the teacher.....but am easily distracted.

I looked at the messy counter in the play area and was feeling overwhelmed. I knew when she walked into the classroom on Monday that she would know that I hadn’t unpacked any of the boxes that were piled all over the playroom area.  I had every intention of getting more unpacking done over the weekend, but my other life- my real life- has a way of distracting me when I leave the premises.

The move from the first grade classroom upstairs occurred during the first week of inservice. While I had hoped and prayed that I might be called to kindergarten, I was sure I would find out earlier than that.

Good luck sometimes disguises itself, and most often makes you work for it.

My pre-student teacher is an old friend of mine- the parent of a kindergartener I had taught some 10 years prior.  She is energetic, delightful, intelligent and incredibly organized.  That last trait is one I’ve often wanted.  However, I was missing the day the trait-fairy made her organizational drop.

Jane has tried to help me since the first day of school. She has unpacked an amazing amount of boxes, and moved furniture around into a configuration that makes more sense to a person with an organized brain.  And while I have to admit it was a relief to have such a great amount of help, it’s difficult to not have used your own hands to place your “stuff” right where you think it should be.

I shared with her my feeling that I wanted to finish unpacking the rest at my own pace and in my own way so that I would feel some sense of ownership and memory of where the stuff would land.  She accepted my wish with a smile and an assignment. 

I had to unpack the rest over the weekend. 

I came in on Sunday with every intention of doing just that.  I started with one box, which led me to one shelf, which led me to another cabinet, which led me to another box, which led me to another shelf, which led me back to my desk.  I sat at my desk and realized, four hours later, that it was time to go home. 

I grabbed my purse and walked to the classroom door. I turned off the lights and looked back at the playroom area feeling quite full of myself about all I had accomplished. 

And that’s when I saw it.

The messy counter in the free play area was even messier, if that was possible.   And as I turned to leave I realized that on Monday Jane was going to kick my ass.


Why this Monday didn't suck.

Reason 4,535,297 why Telling Sharing is my favorite part of the day. 

"My mom got me a hairy-okey machine.  I sing into it!" 

Now THAT I'd like to see........

(And yes, I made her repeat it a thousand times today.)  


That box has to be around here SOMEWHERE.....

I’m spending all of these fall days with my head spinning. 

I’m using most of my brainpower (and time) to gather paperwork in order to save my retirement from the greedy hands of Someone Who Shall Not be Named.  It’s not enough that he’ll have the house, his camp and a share of his mother’s home, but now he wants to ensure that I work at Wal-Mart after I retire. (Which will probably be NEVER if things don’t go my way.  I’ll be the teacher in the corner DEAD in the rocking chair. )

“Ms. Smythe looks kind of funny; she hasn’t spoken to us for a few weeks and is starting to smell…” 

I’m using the rest of my brainpower (and there isn’t much left after THAT, believe me) to organize my temporary home and my permanent classroom.  It’s INCREDIBLE how much stuff a teacher keeps just in case she needs it.  And truthfully, we usually do need the one thing we threw away the week before and so we’re conditioned to keep, keep, keep.  (I mean recycle.)  So I’m spending many hours deciding what precious items from the previous teachers I NEED and what items I don’t. I have to create space inside many filled cabinets for my OWN crap that someone ELSE will try to throw away after they find me dead in the rocking chair.  (Which at this rate will be sooner than I think.)

I fill the few remaining moments with trips to Golden Boy’s high school football games.  Watching him revel in the magical moments of friday night high school football fills my heart with incredible joy.  For those few hours each weekend I am not a woman fighting a battle. I’m the mom of the 6’1” nose guard trying to get a piece of the quarterback.  

Through all of this turmoil, I’ve come to realize that my juggling skills are declining.  I’m sure it has nothing to do with age, bad knees or exhaustion.  It’s probably because I’ve lost my balls.

Now, if someone can tell me which box I packed them in, I can get this show BACK on the road.