The sense of loss that one feels as a good book comes to an end is impossible to describe. There have been only a handful of times, throughout my life as a reader, in which I have experienced heartache that was so profoundly real that my mood was altered for some time afterwards and the experiences of fictitious characters became embedded within my heart and my mind. Characters' whose stories continue to haunt me, whose well-being I cannot help but wonder after, and whose experiences leave my heart feeling heavy and forever changed.


Presently, I am at the midway point of Kite Runner; a novel that has left me sobbing on more than one occasion. The ongoing theme of humanity - of joy and brotherhood, of heart-wrenching guilt and regret, of betrayal, has completely taken over my waking mind. And, as the book progresses, and the main characters age and continue on their chosen paths, I feel an overwhelming desire to stop time. To rewind. To go back the beginning, and to stay there. I don't want to see their lives play out - I want to freeze frame them in a single moment before the loss of purity and the damnation of loyalty. I feel such love and protectiveness for a character who has become completely real to me, yet, in reality, is nothing more than a figment of an author's imagination. I feel wronged, I feel angry, I feel bitter. I want to step in and write a happy ending, which would, undoubtedly, rob the story of the very essence that makes it appeal to the heart.

What a gift.

Grading tests and homework is a lot more fun when I've had a couple of margarittas. Arrrrrriiibbbaaaahhhhh!!!!


Now if only these f-ing hiccups would subside.

Blessings

Some events occurred today that warmed my heart, and I wanted to share them. First, I was greeted in line by one of my students, a sweet little girl who speaks almost no English. She and her mother were holding a bouquet of purple carnations for me. My student stepped forward and gave them to me, smiling her sweet, shy smile. It melted my heart. The first week or two of school, she cried almost every day. Now, she doesn't cry, and sometimes, I can get her to smile. It's funny that I can have such a special place in my heart for a child with whom I cannot communicate freely.

Next, as my children were filing into the classroom, another student pulled me aside and held out a little plastic baggie. Inside were two hoop earrings, decorated with shells and pink beads. She looked up at me and said, "I made these for you." This is the little girl who used to look at me like a martian, and who never had a word to say to me. Now, we talk about karate, and she tells me that I am the "bestest teacher ever", in her serious, stern little way.

Lastly, one of my rowdier boys took my hand in his little hand, looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and said, "Teacher, you're nice. You're the, you're the only teacher I've ever had". Then he took my hand and kissed it. Needless to say, I was shocked. I prompted him, "what about Kindergarten?" To which he responded, "That was a really long time ago...".

I live for Fridays

Super moments from last week:

* Giving two children notes that made their days.
* Winning a billion dollars and not having to go back to work. Ever again.
* Making rice cripsie treats with Nolan (mmm, I like these!).
* Meeting Chandler for the first time on Sunday morning! He's real! And bagels with friends. Wonderful.
* Playing kickball with our older grade buddies. And running the bases for one of my shy students.

* One of these events did not actually occur. I'll let you guess which it was.

Not so super:

* Having two children out, one go home after throwing up, another child with neck spasms that left him crying on the floor, and several other children with bumps/bruises/sick tummies that needed to go to the office. On Monday alone.
* Seeing a young woman get her purse nabbed at Chili's on Sunday night. A man walked in, circled the place, snatched the purse, then bolted. Kevin and I heard, "my purse!", followed by a loud thud, and a "someone call 911!". Ah, L-Town.
* Watching my "favorite" lay on her back on the carpet with her leggings pulled over her feet through half the afternoon, listening to her pretend to eat the olive pizza she smelled in the air, and wondering how long before I can get help with her.
* Discovering three children, who were supposed to be getting bark out of their shoes, end up shooting the shit outside, leaned up against the wall. UGH!


Odd moments:

* Having the school photographer comb my bangs for me before taking my school picture. I felt about... 6.

Sometimes I think I love this job. Sometimes I really, really, don't like it. Were it just my job to teach, that would be enough. It's all of the other responsibilities that get thrown in there and piled on that make me want to run screaming from this career and never look back. Thank you for the encouragement. I'm hanging in there. And for now... that's enough.

what was i thinking?!

My class is out of control. I have one child who acts like an animal - she spent Friday crawling around on the ground, talking/singing to herself, and doing absolutely no work. It doesn't matter how many children tell her to knock it off, or how many times I separate her, talk to her, or voice my disappointment and frustration with her - she is oblivious to the fact that no one wants to be around her. I have a handful of other students who are completely unaffected by rebukes for their chatty, inappropriate classroom behavior. I have another handful of kids who do what they are supposed to do, but who are often punished along with the rest of the class, partly because I'm hoping these "good" kids will pressure the "bad" kids to stop causing so many disruptions. So far, it's not working.

There are moments when I am able to be the teacher I want to be - when I am able to be warm, goofy, and engaging. Times when I am able to actually teach them. Unfortunately, there are far more moments that are spent standing with my arms crossed, lips pressed tightly, and foot tapping to express disapproval.

It's sad to say, but I really, at this point in time, do not like what I do. I'm afraid that I made the wrong choice when I chose to enter the education field. I'm starting to think that I don't even really like kids. I've been told that most teachers feel this way their first year or two, but that fact brings me little comfort. It's hard to feel like my best isn't good enough.

week 1

Ah... where to begin. I woke up Tuesday morning (the morning after I wrote my last post) feeling seriously ill and sobbing hysterically that I didn't want to go back. I wept while putting on my makeup, moped on the bathroom floor, and sniffled my way through what little breakfast I could get down. When it became clear that I could delay the inevitable no longer, I got into my car and began driving to work. As I headed for the freeway, an unexplainable wave of relief came over me, and I thought to myself, "I can do this. I really can". I laid down the law, and my kids responded wonderfully. Because it was my birthday (I guess I should have mentioned that earlier), I got flowers from Kevin, as well as Jamie and Scott delivered to the school. My birthday was announced in the bulletin, and I got to spend the afternoon in a staff meeting being trained on the new copier machine. I made it home around 6:15, and went to dinner at Casa Orozco with my parents, Kevin, and Nolan. There, Judy and I each had a Kamikaze shot, and I was also assaulted by the staff with a shot of sprite and tequila. Afterwards, Kevin, Nolan, and I met up with Sherry for coffee. What started off as the shittiest birthday ever ended nicely. The rest of the week was a series of up and down days - a day of behaving children, a day on misbehaving children, etc.

I thought I would include some of the highs and lows of the week

Highs:
3 visits from 1-800-Flowers within my first two days of school
a kind note from my principal
being told, “Before I knew you, I missed you! I didn’t even know you yet, but I missed you already!” and,
S:“You’re teeth are really clean!”
T:“What makes you say that?”
S:“Well, they look white and like you take good care of them”
T: (unable to miss the opportunity to try to be a good influence)“Well, I do brush them twice a day and floss them everyday!”
S:“Yeah” (points to tooth) “This tooth is hard to floss because it’s so wiggly!”

Lows:
Being ignored by students
Making a student cry
Forgetting recess the first day
Being blamed by a grandparent for causing moodiness in his grandchild due to a literary selection
Custodians that proudly spend “1 1/2 minutes” cleaning each classroom.
Being a meany drill sergeant