Almost five weeks ago, right before the children returned from their frolicsome summers, I managed to fall down, hurt myself, and end up at urgent care with a cute little foot boot (“post-operative shoe”). I ended up back at urgent care this week (with renewed foot pain) to learn that I really had a sprained ankle, not a sprained foot, and left with a not at all cute air boot that comes up to my knee. It is remarkable how much crankier I am at the end of the day after lugging this thing up and down stairs for seven hours, and it is remarkable how much more annoying I find my precious homeroom when I see them for the fourth time during our last hour “intervention” class.
The entirely fictional story of how Ms. B sprained her ankle is almost funny enough that it makes the crankiness worth it. Almost. Also the fact that the children completely bought it tells me that I have not lost my touch with the well developed teacher lie.
I counted this week, and on the way to work I drive through 34 traffic lights. That is 24 more than exist in my entire hometown.
I had my all time greatest teacher moment this week when my third hour students were falling out of their seats because they were so fired up to debate: “The Big Bad Wolf, Guilty or Not?” Friends, they respectfully agreed and disagreed with one another, and they backed up their opinions with evidence from the story. Ms. B’s heart grew three sizes that day. And it didn’t hurt that my MTLD was also in my room at the time, because she now totally thinks that I’m a mildly competent teacher. Score.
My AP told me that I have great classroom management. I stared in disbelief. Fortunately this was also about 3 hours after he heard me screaming at my precious and beautiful homeroom in the hallway as I was waiting for them to line up and be escorted to gym (note item number one – Ms. B is already cranky because of her boot, she has to walk you downstairs like first graders, and you’re not following directions? Bad decision children). So at least he’s not totally in the dark about my (in-)ability to keep my cool with children at times.
I have reached the conclusion that all teachers would be more productive, not to mention more satisfied with their jobs, if we had children only four days out of five. Even four and a half. My school had professional development yesterday, which left three hours of work time for the Comm. Arts department when our presenter turned out to be majorly disorganized. I left school at 4:30 with ALL of my grading done and entered into the computer AND with my mysteriously granted (but so appreciated) new classroom library labeled and put away. I also got to sit and elevate my foot for 7 hours, which did wonders for my usual 3:30 PM crankiness. In spite of the fact that I still have an unspeakably ridiculous amount of planning on my plate for this weekend, I am among the happiest of campers.
My life would actually be pretty great right now if everyone I loved and liked in the world could just converge on St. Louis. Who am I, and what have I done with Ms. B? Waiting for the other shoe (post-operative, air boot, or normal) to drop.