SPH is a tiered 7-level campus with the absence of an elevator. Being on floor three has never been a problem until now. By the time I make it up one flight of steps, I'm ready for a nap. Then, when I'm lucky enough to get to my classroom, my leg is throbbing and I'm ready to throw in the towel and collapse for a long night's sleep under my desk. So far, you've gained a glimpse of how the first half hour of my day unfolds.
If you're assuming that a long, treacherous journey to my classroom takes most of my minimal energy away from me, you'd be assuming right. Thankfully I have a bit of time to recover and mentally prepare myself for the kids. In this time of preparation, it sometimes is hard to see how the positives outweigh the negatives of being at school. Yet, everything seems to come into a focused perspective when the kids enter the classroom and shower me with enthusiastic 'good mornings'. From there on out, jokes and laughter seem to assist me to surf through the day.
The jokes and laughter come easily due to the fact that I am on a handful of prescribed from my accident. I've been keeping a strict schedule on when to take it, but the schedule means diddley squat to the side-effects. Most times I am teaching when the side-effects come in swinging like a blunt force trauma. I wish I had a recorder for all to hear the crazy things that have slipped out of my mouth these past few days. The kids (in both grade 3 and grade 6) were baffled at first, but are eager to hear what their crazy teacher might say next.
So far, this story has been one of epic proportions in my classroom:
As I was doing a uniform check (since administration has been urging us to do so more often), one of my kids walked up the stairs with his shirt untucked. Shazam! Size-effects ensued, I yell, "Hey, you know better! Tuck in your sh*t!" Whoopsie, my bad.
And instead of going to tattle to someone that Ms. Marie said a bad word, he yells back with a toothy grin, "Okay, Ms. Marie. I'll tuck in my sh*t! Did you hear that everyone? Ms. Marie wants me to tuck in my sh*t!"
Now you tell me, readers, how could you possibly punish a kid for saying that when their teacher made the initial slip-up (due to a drug-induced haze...and yes, I do like being a little melodramatic, thanks for wondering). Of course this sparked giggles amongst passing middle school students, and all I wanted to do was slap myself upside the head.
That was the first of many laughs this first week has provided. Then we get to grade 6. Recently we have been studying World War 2 (the setting behind the scenes in the The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe). Today we were talking how to create war obituaries (as we are creating a large scale WW2 newspaper). I told my kids that they needed to practice writing obituaries, so they had to create one for themselves. The guidelines were simple, it had to be truthful to a "T", except for the cause of death.
Immediately one of the girls shouted, "Yes! I've always wanted to commit suicide and live!"
I mean, come on! Who says something like that? And instead of trying to level with the girl, what happens? I burst out into laughter (I may or may not have provided a shower of saliva to the front row of students) and fall into a desk. Suffice it to say the rest of the lesson was a failure from there on out.
Yes, I have had pain these past few days, and I've hit an emotional rock bottom. Yet I come to school and I find solace and joy in my kids. Despite the fact that I may be a walking zombie with a temporarily unpredictable mouth, I can't imagine another day away from them. They always bring a wave of refreshment to me. I am so blessed to have them in my life, even on days when they make me want to pull out my hair.
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