A Teacher’s Day


I never really got into Facebook because it reminded me of when I was a teenager and I would beg my sister to read my diary. It was a time when the world revolved around me and my thoughts and back then, I desperately wanted to share them. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a Facebook fan. At this point in life, I can’t imagine who would want to read my diary – which is what blogging really is, right?

But, 50 years from now, maybe I will want to remember what a day well spent was like at this stage in life – me at age 49. OK, maybe 1 year from now I’ll want to remember!

It started at 6:15am. I did what I always do– quickly turned off the clock radio so I wouldn’t wake my husband. Then I flung my arm above my head because I can’t sleep like that (thereby avoiding going back to sleep). After my usual early morning groan, I got up and came downstairs to heat up my day old coffee. I must have taken the milk out of the fridge before I put the coffee in the microwave because by the time my coffee was warm (120 seconds later), I was disappointed to see that the milk was not in the fridge. Are you kidding me? They drank it all? I just bought that milk! But no, it was just on the other counter from 2 minutes ago. Yes, I suffer from middle age memory problems. I don’t really worry about it because every other woman I know does too, regardless of her age! Anyway, misplacing the milk I just took out is not as bad as wearing my shirt inside out all day, which I really did a couple of weeks ago!

Anyway, I sat down on the sofa and did work emails and finished some paperwork until I saw the dreaded 7:30 on the clock and with another groan, took my shower. Forty five minutes later, I was pulling into the parking lot. I was only in the classroom for an hour before having to leave to go to a couple of IEP meetings. They were good meetings, which means that parents, service providers, and school administrators worked together to assure continued care and services for a couple of our preschoolers with disabilties.

Back at school my assistants had things completely under control, with the gang of 15 kids watching our weekly movie, ‘Curious George’. I donned some latex gloves and dished out animal crackers for snack. At 1:25, we started taking groups of kids out to the busses, one of which was late. While we were waiting, the little girls and I held hands and walked around looking for worms. Sweet little voices calling, “worms, where are you?” warmed my heart. Most were dead but one was alive. We took turns holding it and I smiled as I saw how willing they were to follow my lead, even though they were both clearly repelled by the slimy, wriggling thing.

As is always the case, the next 2 ½ hours flew as I did my planning and prep and rushed to get out of the building so I could make a 4:30 step class at the gym. The class was especially grueling so by the time it was over, I was quite proud of myself but dreading the thought of making dinner. I stopped at the health food store on my way home, cased the aisles and ended up with a pre-made organic pizza crust, some chicken bacon, tomatoes, a bag of spinach, and an onion. I had mozzarella, feta cheese, and romaine at home so I made a pizza and had my daughter make a salad (she now regularly reminds me of the future book she’ll write – ’16 Years a Slave’). The man of the house rolled in around 6:15 and we sat down to eat before he had to take her to orchestra practice at school, which started at 7. I took the picture above while he was gone. He came back bearing a gift –  ice cream sandwichs. We talked about his day and I finished my paperwork while we sat in front of the news.

At nearly 10:00 … my eyes getting blurry… time for bed… dishes will have to wait until tomorrow. I’ll have the darling slave do them…


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