I still have insomnia--it is 3:00, Saturday morning. This is not the first insomnia bout of the school year, and will probably not be the last. I had hoped it was just a Summer thing, but nope. Turns out it's an Amy thing. C has pointed out it may be a now-you're-in-your-40's thing. Whatever it is, I'm glad this bout is happening on a Friday and not a Sunday. Insomnia at 3 am Monday morning on a school week when you are in complete charge of a class of 23 rambunctious, talkative 7-8 year olds stuffed into a trailer classroom like sardines is simply not as doable as 3 am Saturday insomnia.
I have not posted a blog entry here in months. Actually, just three months, but it feels like half a year. School life as a classroom teacher is immensely different than school life as a support teacher. For one thing, I find I really have to time my bathroom breaks well. It's the weirdest (and probably poor kidney health) thing to leave work after an almost 11 hour work day and realize you have not used the bathroom all day...THAT'S my special super power (what's yours?). And 30 minutes for lunch is actually not that long, but having to share it with 23 children is pure torture (I usually don't have to share my 30 minute lunch period, but when I do, it is always with 23 children). Planning periods are precious commodities--I never knew I could get so ticked off over a mere 40 minutes...don't waste my 40 minutes: I will CUT you. Also I never skip recess unless there is a torrential down pour--kids these days don't get enough fresh air, and that's as much a break for me as it is for them. So sometimes we go ten minutes over what should be the end of our recess time...I have had many of those days this year, days in which I say: I need ten more minutes out here. Children are begging me to go back inside, but I am firm. Fresh air is good for you, and NO I do not know or care what that weird smell is out here...go climb the monkey bars. Ms. S is still decomposing from that Math lesson.
I had big (BIG!) ideas going into this year. Too much pinterest, I think. Honestly, I don't know how some of these people have time to teach, raise families, and live life...their ideas are cute in theory but in practice do not execute in ways that are practical and doable for the kind of school I work at. I suspect I need to seek out other Title 1 teachers on pinterest, or start my own pinterest board--Title 1 students and parents have different needs than non-Title 1 people. That is not a judgment call; just an observation.
Anyway, I quickly realized I needed to scale back my overall, arching plans for this year. And when I say "scale back," I actually mean: raise a white flag, retreat, reorganize. Next year, I will be more prepared. I will know what to expect (I'd forgotten what Title 1 classroom teacher/parent/student interactions are really like), and I'll know exactly what to do with the 10,000 folders and reams of notebook paper and red pens and yellow highlighters I received at the beginning of the year (actually, I don't think I'll ever figure out the red pens/yellow highlighters, though the 500 black dry erase markers are truly coming in handy). I'll also be more savvy about grades, homework, and that home connection binder that was such an awesome idea? Not really working out...simple homework folders would be more practical for where I work. The Keep It Simple Stupid (KISS) principle--will embrace it next year. Fancy ideas are for people who have time (like education policy makers who work in quiet, comfy offices and can spend hours researching research to support that one education reform idea they had in that chili-induced lucid dream during that nap they took on their quiet, comfy office sofa the other day--that is SURELY going to fix ALL the problems!).
I'd also like about 3 more feet of width on either side of my trailer, and then life would be truly perfect. But that's magical thinking, and I no longer have time for it.
I did not watch the Vice Presidential debate, in spite of the fact it took place in my hometown. I watched the Presidential debate, and came away so perturbed: those two guys didn't agree on anything except how awesome NCLB and Race to the Top education reform ideas are. We can't agree on how to fix the economy, but we do agree that kids need even more testing and teachers need to feel more pressure over things beyond their control. Way to fix poverty, America. Also, I feel that shows like "Honey Boo Boo," "Jersey Shore," "Keeping up with the Kardashians," and "Real Housewives of (insert big city name here)" are direct results of NCLB and RTTT. In fact, I am pretty confident the founding fathers did not fight a whole war and start a brand new country just so future citizens could go slack jawed watching people in overalls on a show called "Swamp People" on the History Channel wrestle/eat alligators or watch a melodramatic woman on a show called "Dance Moms" scream at young girls and roll her eyes at their horrified, over privileged mothers when she tries to dress their 9 year olds in burlesque stripper costumes because she honestly doesn't get what the big deal about that is. America: Giving Thomas Jefferson post mortem heart attacks, since 1982.
Diane Ravitch is sponsoring an October 17 letter writing campaign to President Obama about his RTTT experiment. I am participating, and I will be sure to point out in my letter how the plethora and type of reality shows being offered to Americans is a direct result of programs like RTTT. I do not have research to back up that allegation. I will point out to President Obama that I would like to have time to do research to back up my allegation, but unfortunately every Monday I have to stuff Homework folders, Tuesdays-Thursdays I have to stuff small brains full of RTTT-backed Common Core curricula, and Fridays are Common Core curricula quiz and Spelling test days and also I have to stuff Friday Folders and help this one little boy locate all the jackets he's lost throughout the week so his mom doesn't think I'm a bad teacher.
The President is a busy man. I know his day to day stresses are far and beyond my day to day stresses, and that, as public servants to the greater good, neither of us is compensated at the level of which we really deserve for the hours/stress/work we do for the greater good and we are constantly working our butts off and getting a lot of tomatoes thrown at us in anger; it's the only way Americans seem to know how to say "I don't agree with you, but thank you for doing the best you know how to do" these days. The difference is: I don't get Secret Service protection, Air Force One rides, a cool spy code nickname, and my house doesn't have a bowling alley and movie theater in the basement. I think if the President and all future Presidents can find a way to get me Secret Service protection, a cool spy code nickname, some dinner outings with Clive Owen and Gerard Butler, renovate my entire upstairs and master bathroom, and give me a weekly house cleaning service until retirement, we'll call it a day and I'll do their stupid, dumb educational experiments with easy-to-acronymize titles without another single, whiny complaint. Unless my planning period gets cut. Then all deals are OFF, traitors.
Melissa is turning 4 in a few weeks. This time 4 years ago, I was on forced bed rest and hating it. Clearly, I was insane due to pregnancy hormones--I now believe there should be a National Bed Rest Day, twice each month and never on a Saturday or Sunday.
Melissa is a willful child. This is both good and bad--good because it means she's smart, and hopefully will be an independent thinker; bad because sometimes Mommy just needs to get out of the house before 7:15 AM without any arguments because if she leaves at 7:20 we'll hit that big traffic wall and Mommy's WHOLE WORLD WILL BE RUINED. Four year olds don't seem to understand adult work stress, and if they do, they certainly do not care. Brushing their teeth and going potty the way THEY want to do it are far more pressing and stressful, and you and your work stresses can just take a hike. Walls of traffic and your high blood pressure issues?? Psh. Who cares about those petty issues?? I am going to throw a tantrum because you just wiped my butt the way I don't like and I wanted to turn off the bathroom light! This is so tragic, and you are the meanest mommy ever and you are NOT coming to (insert random kid's name)'s birthday party!!! (This is a running theme in our house each morning, and I suspect it is not unusual in other households containing willful 4 year olds.)
Melissa also loves all things princess-y and fairy. I really tried hard to keep her neutral and away from that--I wanted her to like the colors green (nature) and purple (creativity) and play sports and read books and be a girl who can move between the girl and boy cultures and be fluent in both. I do not know how I ended up with a girl who is obsessed with princesses, fairies, and the color pink and likes to do "movie star" kisses but only to mommy and daddy because she's been warned at school that "movie star" kisses are not appropriate for friends. Bright light in tunnel: she does ask for boy toys instead of girl toys sometimes, saying, "It's okay for girls to play with boys' toys, right Mommy? That's okay. And boys can play with girls' toys too." Which makes my heart happy and proud and hopeful, even though she can take that too far--today she said everyone who was coming to her birthday party in a few weeks had to wear a dress, even the boys. (She then backed up and clarified the boys need to wear brown prince dresses, because the girls will be in pink princess dresses.)
So life is busy and crazy and stressful, but there have only been two moments where I've thought: I really, seriously may need to check myself into a mental health facility; this is a very spiraling-downward feeling I'm having. But I continue to believe we are never tossed into a churning sea without a lifeboat: I work with some incredibly fabulous, wonderful co-workers (the majority of teachers are like this--we are like Army soldiers in an uphill battle, and all we have is each other), and I have a willful girl who needs me to explain why some of her boyfriends may not be so hip on wearing her prince dress, and so we pull ourselves up and go on.
And there is no problem so big that God can't handle it--my favorite prayer is, was, and will always be "Help." It is instantly answered, and I have never, ever been ignored. (When I ask for more specific things, that's when the Universe decides It has a sense of humor--my advice when communicating with the Powers that Be: keep it simple. Don't make any sudden moves that reminds Anyone Anywhere They have a sense of humor.) (I mean, look at what's become of the entire American political system...this is no time for shenanigans, people!) (And turn off those reality shows and FOX News! You'll rot your brain.)
The End.
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