(Another) Ego Boost

It's so worth it!

I'm Totally Going Shoe Shopping, Or Maybe On a Date

So, I had to wear these things called shoes to work last week. They like, go around your foot and have a front and a back. They pretty much suck if they're not called flip-flops.

And then this little thing called ouch these blisters really hurt happened.

But it's not all bad, because I totally have good reason to go shoe shopping. And, I might need to go to the hot foot doctor. Where might need to means, I'm so making an appointment and stealing him from the world, and asking him on a date.

Right. Well, maybe just the new shoes then...

(It totally looks worse in person.

Totally worthy of an MD's time.

Did I mention my limp?)

Ego Boost

I'm not sure which one I am, but I do know... this kid is so getting an A.

Go to the Head of the Class

Does this sweet, sweet child just make you want to melt, or what?  

(Click to enlarge)

And to csdw.org, it goes.

He Forgot That "Asshole" Has a Silent "e"

For a couple of weeks now, first grade has been an obnoxious amount of the Silent "e" rule.  We sing songs about it.  We practice it in reading group with ridiculous stories about how one might "bake a cake on a lake with a snake" or "tape a shape of a kite while awake in space."  Uh-huh.  Kind of like the Harry Potter series, gripping, only ... not.

So when Parent Teacher conferences began this morning, I did what most teachers do:  inundate parents with paperwork and examples and assessments and journals and test-scores and rubrics and ... did I mention the journal?

So there's me, in my most professional demeanor, behind my kidney table, work sprawled out, presenting to Little Boy Blue's parents.

Me:  I'd like to share with you some of Little Boy Blue's writing samples now.  Here (flipping pages) are our daily journals.  Each morning we (something catches my eye ... did that just say "Bitch?" ... no, couldn't have) begin with a writing prompt (flipping through more pages ... there it is again, it says "Bich" ... oh, it must mean "rich," or "big,"...) and students respond (THAT'S IT!).  

Me:  ?  

Parents:  ?

Journal:  

Dear Mrs. Just-Jamie,

Bich  Asshol Bich Bich Ass

Yup.  And the shit of it all was this, he didn't even freakin' remember the silent "e" in Ass-holE.

Sheez.  Some teacher I am.

(In Little Boy Blue's defense, I have yet to teach the trigraph "tch.")

***************************************************

FYI:  Said journal went home as a souvenir for Little Boy Blue to explain.  We'll see what he has to write about this week.   

How Does This Work?

I've survived my first week back.  I haven't taught full-time since the kids were born, which reminds me, their birthday is coming up.  Guess who took over birthday party duties?  The husband.  Guess who took the kids to their first day of Junior Kindergarten at their new school?  The husband.  Guess who is taking them to their 4 year-old check up?  The husband.  Guess who packed lunches and made dinner this week?  The husband.  Guess who is taking Chase to get his hair cut?  The husband.  And do you know what?

It's really hard to let go.

I miss my Mommy duties.  I miss waking up and reading blogs.  I miss making the birthday party details come to life, chatting with the neighbors, taking the kids swimming mid-day, going to the library to hear some cheesy puppet show.  I miss it all.

If you've been pulling this off all along, Dude, you rock.  Because this.is.hard.

But it will all iron itself out.  It's a matter of getting efficient, getting into a routine, getting a solid system figured out.

Sorry to whine.  I had hoped to be my snarky self.  I'm barely hanging on right now.  And the husband.  The helpful one.  Yeah, he leaves tonight for 5 nights.  There was a time I celebrated this alone time.  But today, I'm feeling a bit anxious about the whole thing.

Here's the good news, the kids are thriving at their new school.  It's a fantastic place with fantastic teachers.  I know they are in good hands, and they love it.  And Patrick even took pictures for me of their first day at school ...

Wanna see?

Note to self:  Next time, give Patrick the point-and-shoot.  

Where In the World Is "Just Jamie?"

Three weeks ago, I never would have thought I'd be staring at the walls of my own classroom, again.  What a treat.  

Two weeks ago, there was nothing in this room but a ladder.

One week ago, I was able to get into the room.

5 days ago, I was allowed to put things on the wall.

3 days from now, the room will be filled with 20 first graders.  

It's a "portable," but it's brand new.  I hoped to get in this weekend and put some finishing touches up, but my room is so new, no one knows where the key is...ugh.  It's probably good though.  I'll rest up, catch up on 400 blogs (um, yeah), and spend time with my own kiddos who will be starting Junior Kindergarten next week!  Five full days.  Wow.  I know they're in excellent hands, but I really will miss them.

Sorry to have been so absent.  Hope all of you blog buddies are doing well.

The Door Is Open

(It's a long post, but you may not see another one for a while... so you can take your time.)

Once upon a time there was a teacher.  She taught first grade.  She loved her students, the parents, the feeling of giving some tender bits of wisdom to little ones each day.  This teacher always wanted to be a Mommy.  After some blessings of fertility doctors and happy spirits, the teacher became pregnant with not one, but two little angels.  So the teacher hung up her teaching hat (and by hung up I mean stowed about 400 boxes of primary colored goodness in her garage) and eased into her new role (and by eased I mean cried harder than her colicky son) as a Stay-at-Home-Mom.  She loved it.

Life went on.  The twins grew.  She started a blog.  She embraced her role.  And then Target played some voo-doo magic on her in the form of putting Back To School supplies at every turn.  Oh how the SAHM longed to buy 20 packs of crayons, 20 glue sticks, 20 sets of Fiskars scissors... instead she bought plastic toys and swim suits for $3.99, birthday gifts for play group friends, and Green cleaning products.  She liked that too.

One day, the SAHM had an overwhelming urge (and by overwhelming urge I mean she kicked everyone out of the house in the middle of a Sunday afternoon so she could get her letter -groove on) to compose a letter to the Principal of her Dreams, at the School of her dreams, which happens to be 1.1 miles from her new home.  She decided to compose this letter 2 weeks before the start of school, knowing that all positions would of course be filled, but that she ought to put her name in the ring for next year.

The letter was lovely.  The SAHM hit "send."  The letter did not send.  In fact, the letter disappeared into cyber-eff-you-ness.  The girl knows from watching Oprah that the law of attraction means that you think really hard, put it out there, pray a wee bit, and hope for the best possible outcome.  The SAHM did not know the best possible outcome, after all the SAHM was getting rather used to staying in her jammies until ... um, lunch.  But she did this little thing called praying.  And she composed a new letter, hit send, and waited.

Meanwhile, 1.1 miles from home there was a Principal.  He was a lovely man.  He received the SAHM's letter, got a chuckle, and likely dismissed it as a good try.  As I understand it, within moments of reading the email, the Principal received a phone call from the District.  The phone call said that the Principal needed to open a new classroom, a first grade classroom ASAP.  The Principal could have gone to the District for a list of 50 teachers from which to choose.  Fortunately, the Principal also believes in the law of attraction and could not believe the email he had read moments before from some crazy SAHM announcing her eligibility to teach first grade.  He sent her an email:  "You're on."  She set out the next morning to see him.

He played a good hand.  Never did he let on that he even had a job to offer.  The talk was casual.  The feeling overwhelmingly fantastic.  Then, he showed his cards.  There was a job.  It was first grade.  We didn't even know how I was sitting in that room with him, mere hours after the news of the opening.  I couldn't explain it.  He couldn't explain it.  In what can only be understood as an act greater than the two of us, I think we both realized it was truly, meant to be.  

Later that day, after we both had time to process, the Principal proposed to me.  He told me that things would not be easy, that the circumstances were particularly difficult, but that he would support me, and that we would make it through the good and bad times.  It was easy to put the ring on my finger, glow, and accept.

So here I am, no longer officially a SAHM, off to the world of Working Mother and first grade teacher.  As the nature of perfect coincidences happen, there is a fantastic preschool blocks from our home which happened to have two spots left for Junior Kindergarten.  How do you script it better?

I can only hope that we all have the proverbial fairy tale ending.  I'm not sure how I will navigate blogging and such, but I know that the circle of incredible people I read will understand.  

As I walk through the next door, I hope that I do not disappoint.  Although I will miss terribly seeing the intricacies of my preschoolers first-hand, I know we will all prosper.  Cross your fingers.