I’ve been struggling for the past few, well, weeks, months, years, decades… For someone who wants people to like her so much, I should really stop being such a bitch. I’m finding myself frustrated with nearly everything lately. Irritability is a bitch.
All of the above, please.
As I so often do, I was thinking at work today while trying to maintain my anger management issues, how I’m really not a nice person. I talk about myself too much, I don’t worry about others enough, I’m irresponsible, and irritating. I have no will-power, I’m ungrateful for what I have. The list could go on, and on…
So, to counter-act the tail spin that would likely result from this bout of self-loathing, I’m taking it upon myself to make this blog a thankful journal for the remaining month of December. For each day I will write at least a short post to remind myself of all that I have to be thankful for. I thought about posting about positive things about myself, but I would have to have positive things to say about myself, and I don’t right now. Maybe in a couple of weeks I will have mindfully proven to myself that I can be a good and kind person, and then I can spend a month writing a positive affirmation blog month about that. But for now I need to get my head out of my ass and stop being lost in my barren field of f*cks I don’t give and get my shit together.
Wish me luck!
It has been a while since I’ve written anything of substance. I have been re-reading posts on occasion, and get really frustrated because it seems that every time I do post, it’s when something is bothering me. But then I think, well, that was the whole purpose of this exercise, wasn’t it?
Those of you who know me well know I struggle with depression and anxiety. I hate change, and love routine. I thrive on it, but I can get bored just as well. This coupled with the fact that the past few years anger as a response has begun to rear its ugly head making me an even larger hinderance to myself have begun to irritate myself to levels of wanting to smack myself silly just from listening to my inner monologue. I can’t image how those who have to listen to me on a regular basis might feel. I know, I know, “You’re so ANGRY.”
I have had a rough couple of weeks. I of course, being me, have made it incredibly worse by not allowing my mature side to control my emotions, and playing the victim, as I often do so well. But even that aside, I admit that it’s been rough. Like a perfect storm with all of the natural ingredients rolled into a perfect little ball ready for implosion: and today it imploded.
I cried, I got pissed, I yelled, and screamed (in the privacy of my own car, thank you very much), but it happened. Am I proud of it? No. Could I have compartmentalized these feelings and emotions and not outwardly displayed them, probably, but my emotional intelligence is diminishing with age and my self-control is lacking. Do I need to pull myself together and be an adult? Yes. Do I continue to make excuses for myself? Absolutely.
Today I realized that maybe some of the issues I thought had been resolved from my divorce might not be as resolved as I once thought. My sense of injustice is way out in left field as of late, and that needs to be rectified. As I talked with my friend this week I once again realized that as an adult, life’s not fair, it’s never going to be fair, and that’s just the way it is. I realized today that I don’t trust people. I WANT to, but I have a such a strong engrained mindset of everyone being out to get everyone else or lacking the ability to care about anyone else that it eventually becomes impossible for me to trust almost anyone.
After my divorce my paradigm of trust began to shift to new people. Even now, that shift scares me because I place so much value on the assumption that those people will be there for me when things once again get rough. This circle of trust continues to become smaller and smaller as the years go by and I have begun to wonder where my balance needs to be drawn because we as humans are flawed individuals. We make mistakes, we are not perfect, and that should be ok. So why am I not ok with this?
I am so concerned with how others see me, that sometimes it scares me. My need to make a difference or to be a meaningful asset to the team constantly finds myself being disappointed and deflated. I don’t want to be the leader, or have all of the power in situations, but I want to know that I contribute and that my contribution is appreciated and recognized. Is this normal? Does this make me a narcissist? Am I a bad person because of this? I think these are the components of my frustration that need to be shifted, but I don’t know how to look at it differently and I think (or hope) these are natural responses as an individual.
I’m tired. Today is the first time I can remember since my divorce that I am physically and emotionally exhausted from the events of my day. I am maintaining the feeling that I just want to crawl into bed and cry and sleep and not get up for an entire week. It’s frightening and exhausting all in one and I remember that I am not infallible. I will continue to make mistakes and be a poor example of a person because we as humans are always changing and growing and regressing and messing up. It’s human. I have to continue to remind myself that the person who plays it off that they are constantly moving forward and becoming better are not only lying to me, but to themselves, because nobody is perfect and that’s ok. And those that are faking it to make it are ok too, (I need to stop being equally angry with them…) and maybe I need to do a little bit of that myself.
I know come Monday morning I will get up, take a shower, and go to work, because that has also been engrained in me by some pretty awesome people who continue to encourage me to keep going. I will be ok with the fact that I’m not perfect, and while other people will play it like they are, we are human after all. All flawed individuals with insecurities and hopes and dreams that may never come to be, but I know if I don’t get up and go, I’ll never know who I can be.
I’ve got an anger management problem. I don’t think I’ve always had it, I think its developed since my divorce. I’m not really sure where it comes from, although my dad has been known to throw random objects into the woods in the back of our house. He’ll be grilling out and the spatula won’t work like he thinks it should… and wham, it’s flying over the back yard into the trees. Sprinkler not working right? Watch out cars going up the hill, that thing will break a window if you’re not looking…
I’ve started watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix with the BFF, and I have to tell you, I really relate to the anger on that show. Not like, I’m gonna pee on your floor relate, but I get the gist of it ya know? (I swear if my BFF calls me Crazy Eyes one more time I’m gonna blow. I call her Dandelion in return, so I’m pretty sure we’re even in the end.) My favorite thing about the show is they tell you the story of everyone’s past so you can see where they’ve been and understand what led up to them being incarcerated. Life sucks for everyone so I guess it’s all in how you handle it. I can honestly say I hope my anger isn’t that severe, and I hope I look good on the outside, because some days whats going on inside wouldn’t look too pretty on the outside.
I have a multitude of angry emotions that can be volatile if I’m not careful. Stewing is never a good sign. My BFF has spidey sense for it. She sees it coming a mile away. She’s always telling me, “You’re so angry… I also have this thing where if I get really mad I cry. I hate when other people see me cry, so I won’t make eye contact. Like, if I don’t look at you, you can’t see I’ve been crying and I won’t be embarrassed. That’s generally the first day. The second day is my emotionally compromised teenage girl angst day. By the third day I’m good. It’s those first two days you gotta steer clear though.
In the meantime, this attribute tends to be quite challenging when around children, working with children, or being a parent to children. My dry wit and sarcasm doesn’t help either, but anger, it just fuels the fire. My oldest tends to have an anger management problem as well, and while I use to think she got it from her father, I’m not so sure I can pass that off on him anymore. Homework time seems to be a problem area, as well as bedtime. The yelling, the crying, the tears.. it’s all just so, cliché. It frustrates me to no end, and if it’s not one of them it’s the other. Like they have a schedule all worked out for how we can drive mom crazy the quickest.
Then there is the whole working with kids thing, which probably doesn’t help when it’s time to work on homework with my own kids. But it is what it is, right? This week at school one of my students has been unusually more talkative than usual. It’s not abnormal for him to be so vocal, but this week seems to be particularly bad. I use the Classroom Dojo which is a computer app that you can use to give or take points to students based on appropriate or inappropriate behaviors. At one point this week, I decided I was going to use Pavlov’s version of conditioning him to stop constantly interrupting me. I mean, it was so bad I couldn’t get a full sentence out all afternoon. So, I started taking a point off every time he interrupted. He got up to like -14 points. It was pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I felt like Dr. Evil telling Scott to “zip it”.
Apparently my students find my temper amusing at times. Today I heard one say, “Look how red her face is!”. I should probably do something about it before I stroke out or say something I may regret later, but it’s probably way past that point now. I generally say things without the filter on full blast and usually end up regretting it later. It’s not that I mean the things I say in anger, it’s just I tend to get all worked up and in order to deflect the blame I put on myself (or rightly should), I will start bitching about anyone and anything that doesn’t have to do with me. It’s a defense mechanism really. So… yeah, I should look into that, although apparently there aren’t many anger management classes around here. It’s just… so exhausting.. Lol.
It’s been a particularly rough week at school. Today I learned one of my students is homeless and it definitely struck a chord with me. I felt horrible after I learned this because first thing this morning s/he and I had an incident and had I known I would have handled it completely differently. S/he had brought some coloring sheets and math pages to school. As I was helping him/her get things turned in for the morning and get him/her set I told him/her I would take them and hold onto them for him/her. S/he got upset and the situation escalated.
Later I couldn’t help but feel bad because I too know what it’s like to not know where you are going to be the next day, week or month. I remember shortly after the girl’s dad left feeling completely hopeless. We were living in a home that his family owned, and while they willingly let us stay, I knew it wouldn’t be forever and new plans would have to be made. On a Catholic teacher’s salary and as a newly single mom, I knew having my own place would be next to impossible. My options were slim and with debt and attorneys fees, the stress it imposed on me and the girls was felt daily. Then adding the fact that I was let go from my teaching position in a free-falling work force added even more emotional stress and turmoil.
I always remember my girls having a difficult time letting go of things that were theirs. Even today the smallest things are kept and secreted away in hiding places. And now I understand, not knowing what is temporary or what is permanent can be stressful on an adult, let alone a child.
This past year I have often become frustrated because others say it is hard to understand where children from low-income are coming from and the situations they often encounter. I don’t know if it’s because I too have been in many difficult situations in my life, as well as other people I have known, but I always think to myself that not understanding others mindset or culture can cross over into all socio-economic statuses or family situations. Very few of us take the time to actually get to know people and their struggles, and it’s not always our fault. Many of us don’t like to openly share our hardships or stories. We think it makes us weak in others eyes. But I think it makes us strong, and better able to understand where others are coming from.
Someone once told me a story of a person suffering from cancer and how she would always ask the other person how they were doing. The person would say to her, “Why are you asking about me? You are going through one of the hardest struggles in life there is?” But the person would always tell her that EVERYONE is going through a struggle in their lives. It matters because it is happening to you.
I think so many of our misunderstandings and miscommunications could be refocused if we all took this viewpoint towards others lives. It’s not a race issue, or an economic issue, it a human issue. We all struggle, we all fight our own daily battles. The importance is showing kindness to others and to recognize that we don’t know or understand completely what another person is going through. The importance is taking into account the feeling and mindset of others, and custom tailoring our interactions to make them meaningful and thoughtful for others.
So there are a few things I want to take from this: one, always be cognizant of where others are coming from, you never know what battle they are fighting. Two, be brave and tell your story. We ALL have stories, and they should be told. They are powerful and are a part of us and have made us who we are. And lastly, keep an open mind. Don’t be condescending or critical of others. We all have different perspective on life. No one is the same. That is they beauty of our world. Sometimes it’s good just to stop and watch what is going on around you, and to recognize where you can help: be it a kind word, a helping hand, or encouragement to others to keep going. Keep your chin up friends, and know while no one can know your specific struggle, we have all been there and we are all cheering you on.
So for a Professional Development activity we were suppose to read two articles about believing in students and the correlation to achievement and then do a self reflection. I came up with a three page dissertation on my belief in my students. Haha, can we say OVER ACHIEVER…. Brown noser right here…
Any-who, it’s posted below if you have 15 minutes to kill with nothing better to do… Yes, I’m an over-sharer….
I truly believe in all of my students. Being a teacher with extremely high expectations of my student’s means that sometimes I question myself, or my severity with my students and the rigors I expect from them. But without these expectations, there can be chaos and uncertainty. Having a clear plan in mind for your students can be the difference between success and failure. All students have the opportunity to succeed, but they must be made to realize that with all good things, it will take hard work and perseverance.
Each of my students is expected to have clear organization and responsibility where their educational experience is concerned. Teaching students that they have control over their success in the classroom can be difficult and sometimes feel like you are pulling teeth. However, teaching students good organizational habits and responsibility can be the key to their success.
My students are expected to write all assignments down in their assignment planner each day and have it signed by a parent before returning to school the next day. Ideally, students will make check boxes next to their assignments and check off work as it is done. This way at the end of the day they will know what work and supplies will be needed to finish the days work. Students have binders that are organized and labeled so there is no question as to where things can be placed or found for easy access. They keep their planner in the front and have an Unfinished Work/Take Home Folder for any assignments incomplete; they also have an ELA (Reading, English, and Spelling) folder, math folder, science folder, and social studies folder. Any papers that have been returned graded or done together in class should go in these folders until their next test. That way they have resources to study and review from if needed.
Students are given homework folders on Monday with the week’s assignments. I discuss with students the various ways they can go about organizing their time to complete these assignments throughout the week, and also stress that it is their responsibility to find the best way that works for them. We also discuss the other activities that they should be working on daily or weekly, such as studying for spelling tests, reading, and practicing math facts.
Students also have Friday Folders they take home at the end of each week that contain all graded papers, along with a weekly record sheet that they must fill out telling how many “D” and “F” papers they have. I allow my student the opportunity to correct any “D” or “F” papers and turn them in for additional credit. I will take the two grades (the original and the new grade after corrections) and average them together for their new grade. This activity is two-fold in that they have the opportunity to raise their grade, but more importantly have the opportunity to go back and re-learn what they may have missed before. They can ask questions before correcting and even have a parent or older sibling help them out, thus giving them further ways to enhance their learning experiences and problem solve on their own.
All of these strategies allow students to take the, “its too hard” aspect out of education to teach them that good organization and time management is half of the battle. There is no excuse in my classroom for not asking for help. All students know that if they don’t understand one of the weekly homework assignments, it is their responsibility to go over the assignments early in the week so anything not understood can be brought back to class and questions can be asked and answered. “I didn’t understand” is not a viable excuse because they had the opportunity to be proactive in asking questions and planning ahead.
I also expect my students to write in complete sentences with punctuation and capitalization. They understand a strong sentence has at least 7-10 words, uses colorful words, adjectives, adverbs, and even sometimes, figurative language. Paragraphs are at least 3-5 sentences long and restate a question or have a topic sentence.
If I were to tell my students they didn’t have to do these things, it would be the same as telling them they can be lazy, and in the real world that’s not an option if you want to be successful or if you want to follow your passion.
I know for a fact that teaching is my passion. It can be incredibly hard, and many people demean our profession, but I truly love what I do and I wake up each morning excited to get to work and educate my students. When I began college, under no uncertain terms did I want to become a teacher. I wanted to do something great, and important, and to make a difference in the world. But as my college education wore on, I began to see it was a calling for me. I couldn’t deny my love of children and my love of life long learning. As I began to teach, I began to see that I WAS making a difference in the world. Maybe not in the global mindset that I had anticipated, but I believe that’s part of growing up. Realizing that making a difference is helping one person at a time, taking time to talk to someone and let him or her know you care for him or her, or telling him or her you believe in him or her. Teaching must be an extremely selfless act in that the teacher gets very little in return, but sharing in the achievements and goal setting of your students can be rewarding in itself.
I have spent more than 10 years in and out of various professions. Some have been in an educational setting and some not. But I have realized through my own personal struggles and questioning my purpose and direction in my professional life, that the struggle and patience I have to go through to find a long term teaching position is completely worth it to me. I have waited for a job-teaching full time in a self-contained classroom for more than 5 years, and I couldn’t be happier just to have this job. It’s hard and there are good days and bad days, and I question myself, and get frustrated with the paperwork and multitude of items on a teacher’s plate, but I wouldn’t change where I am right now for the world. It’s what I’m called to do and I will continue to do it.
The final question is where do I go from here. My answer is that I continue to do what I am doing and hold my students and myself to the high standards I have set for them and myself. If I do not demand these things of my students and myself then I am doing a disservice to us both. I said before that sometimes I feel as if I expect too much from my students or I’m too hard on them, but teaching is not necessarily a warm fuzzy experience with hugs and high fives all of the time. Sometimes it’s tough love and showing students I expect more of them. Sometimes it’s taking away the extra activity or outside time in order for students to complete an assignment that wasn’t completed the night before. And sometimes its making them walk up and down the hall until they can do it correctly, because I want to teach them dignity and pride in themselves. I am changing the world, one student at a time. I am shaping a future that I will be proud to live in with adults who take responsibility and demand the same of others. I teach.
Maybe the question is… Do you believe in me?
I am exhausted. I haven’t written since the astounding announcement of my impending employment. I love having a job and going to work and the challenges my classroom presents, but man, this is hard.
I was amazingly unprepared for the insanity of all that is entailed with working in an “inner” city and public school. I don’t sleep, I leave for work at 6:30am and get home at 5:30pm. Then, after dinner I work until the girls go to bed at 8PM, but not before I check their homework or give spelling tests. I work while they fall asleep, and then until 10PM.
My weekends are filled with unending searches for the magic cure for behavior management in my classroom, only to find it’s now Sunday afternoon and I need to get my lesson plans completed for Monday and to be emailed to my supervising administrator. It’s not your normal lesson plans either: objective, common core standard alignment, focus, procedure, Special Education accommodations, and assessment focus.
There are Direct Instruction times that have to be planned out for Corrective Reading, shared reading, guided reading, centers, vocabulary and word study. Math lessons with fluency, applied problems, problem sets, exit tickets, and homework assignments.
Somebody please stop the ride, I want off for five minutes, or long enough for me to use the bathroom. I would start drinking, but I’m afraid if I started I wouldn’t stop. It would help me sleep better, but I’m not sure how effective I’d be in the morning with a hangover.
Teachers are extremely under appreciated and underpaid. Have you thanked your child’s teacher today? Do it.
So, if you don’t already know, I got a new job teaching in a primary school. Fourth grade, pretty big school, what I would classify as inner city, and yet, I love it. I have missed the days where I wake up wanting to go to work. I love the feeling I get each morning when I wake up and I can’t wait to start over and try again with my kids if it was a bad day yesterday, or to continue the awesome things we did the day before. I am insanely busy, I’ve never been to so many meetings, professional developments, and training sessions, but the adrenaline rush is enough to keep me going. I’m exhausted, but I’m remembering what it is to push on and keep going, even after a ten hour day when I get home and the girls have work to complete, or instruments to decide on, or lunches to make for the next day. I’m in my sweet spot, and its awesome.
This is all so cliche and ridiculously ironic, but I am realizing courage comes in so many different forms. I am paralyzingly terrified of the whole teacher evaluation process, but I am jumping in head first. I am terrified of speaking with parents, ironic right? Isn’t it usually the parents who are terrified when the teacher calls? However, I am committed to communicating with them, whether it’s in vain or not, I will know I am doing the best I can for my students. Common core, PBIS, Kagan, ADVID; all of these new terms are being thrown at me left and right, and yet I find myself soaking it in, wanting to go to each training session to learn more, but practicing my time management skills and picking and choosing what is the most important. Lesson planning: I have never REALLY experienced lesson planning like this. Last week was a painfully long and drawn out process that I never thought I would finish, but I did, and this week it was easier, and next week will be even easier.
All of these things are equally terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and it’s awesome.
I can honestly say I have never worked this hard, and been this committed to a job before. Nothing can compare to the insanity of these planning periods and team meetings, and trying to corral a abnormally small class size of sixteen, which will undoubtedly turn into twenty five after Labor Day, into learning, listening, experiencing, and exploring. This is a challenge and I’m rising to it. I can’t wait to see where this leads and how I can become better as a teacher.
If you had asked me exactly four years and sixteen days ago if I would find myself here, in this place, being OK… I would have looked at you like you were a crazy mo-fo and turned and walked away. How could I go from that to this. That was so ugly and nothing good would have ever come from it. But that’s how life goes, and I’m so happy with the person I’ve become. Sure, I’m far from perfect and there is SO many other things I would change, but to become a person who doesn’t sweat the small stuff, who can see the forest for the trees, that is my ultimate. A lot of people might say its laziness or plain disinterest, but I know different. To go from a person who worries about the littlest, minute details that won’t matter tomorrow, much less in a week, is simply mind blowing to me, it’s huge. I am simply choosing not to worry about the things I can’t change, or the things that aren’t life changing. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I can see the forest for the trees, I have been through hell and back and I can distinguish the life altering from the annoyingly tolerable. And I love it.
Look at me, living and shit.
My bestie and I were on an errand from God on Sunday. 1.) Because she was getting a new phone after almost chucking hers out the window because it wouldn’t text and other highly necessary operations that are a must for the technically connected… and 2.) because the monster needed his school supplies and there would be no other time to do it in their busy schedule before Meet Your Teacher night later in the week.
She was feeling oddly bad for me because I would be standing around in a phone store looking longingly at the phones that I couldn’t afford because I’m painfully poor and am days away from having a really professional and good paying job which will actually put me back in the economy’s middle class ranking, so she suggested we divide and conquer to make things move a little faster and be more productive. I would drop her off at the phone store then run and get the school supplies. Sounds easy, right? I was excited because I don’t go with the girls, their grandmother is extremely generous in offering each year to buy their supplies for them, so I would get the experience without the stress of it being with my own children arguing over Hello Kitty folders and Frozen backpacks.
No, that’s not even what happened. When I walked into the store the school supplies were directly in front of me and the mass chaos that was ensuing was both shocking and eye-opening to me as a parent as well as a teacher.
And here is where I revolt from my fellow teachers and throw them all to the wolves. Because we are BAD people. I mean bad, as in were are definitely going to hell bad.
I walk up to the school lists and begin to read, thinking, not too bad, not horrible. But then I start searching for the items and realize, these are really specific items being requested on this list. (5) folders, but they must be red, blue, green, yellow, and purple. I get the plastic folders because I know my friend’s son and I think, “hey, he won’t be able to destroy these, at least not easily, right?” So I start looking for the appropriate colors and find all but a yellow.
I am defiant by nature, so when I can’t find a yellow in the plastic version I refuse to switch to the paper version. It’s just principle now. So I get orange instead. It’s in the yellow family, a secondary color created by its primary counter parts yellow and red. Orange will be the new yellow.
Next I had to find specific amounts of crayons, markers, and colored pencils. Lets be honest, none of the amounts he was supposed to have were correct, me being a teacher I’m thinking, “More is better, right?” 36 colored pencils instead of 24, 10 markers instead of 8, what could 2 additional colors hurt?
Then came the dry erase markers. I don’t disagree with the purchase of these, but when the girls are specified to bring “fine tip” and the boys “chisel tip” I draw the line. Last time I’m brought dry erasers chisel tip was the norm so I’m thinking easy peasy. Nope, apparently fine tip is all the rage these days. Stupid, chisel I can make a fat line or a thin line, best of both worlds, but apparently higher education is more specific in their instruction of new teachers these days. When I was in college we had to practice writing on CHALK BOARDS people. CHALK BOARDS. I have a strong aversion to chalk boards. Like I’m gonna puke if even one squeak comes from a piece of chalk and God FORBID someone scratch their nails on it. I’m gagging as we speak just thinking of it…
At this point I begin to notice I’m walking the aisle mumbling to myself, “Crayons, crayons, pointed tipped scissors, magic erasers. What the f*ck is a Magic Eraser? ” Over and over again. I think, “People are gonna start staring, so I’d better keep it together.” But then I realize all of these other parents are doing the same thing!
One guys walking down the aisle going, “Oh God, oh God…”, another is mumbling, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”. I heard a mother say to her daughter, “You’d better make this fridge and microwave last you all four years.”
I ran into another mom looking for a specific brand of pencils. I directed her to the correct spot, then asked, “Do you know what a magic eraser is?”
“I’m actually a teacher and I have no idea what it is..” She looks at me with a mixture of hatred and pity and I scurry away.
The breaking point was the crayons. I was in need of a 24 pack, but could only get the 8 count jumbo size or the 128 mega pack and I figured I’d have one pretty pissed off third grader gunning for me if I brought either of these home. After angry Snapchats and rantings to my bestie, I stoop about as low as I could go on this “damned from the beginning” pilgrimage and nab a pack out of a pre-packed bag for patrons to purchase for underprivileged school students. A new low for sure.
As I made my way back to the phone store to pick her up, I was reviewing what purchases might not be actually kosher with the teacher figuring the orange folder might be a bit of a stretch, but surely it couldn’t make that much of a difference right? Wrong. I was promptly informed that last year the items that weren’t correct were sent home with a note stating they were not acceptable and new items must be purchased. In fact, she informed me that she fully expected to be back out re-buying all of these same supplies the week after school started because generally half of them weren’t correct.
I was outraged. I told her if the teacher made a peep she should let me know and I would be up at that school the next day having it out with her. She insisted it really wasn’t worth it and that buying all new supplies was in turn, much easier.
Today she posts this blog from People I Want to Punch in the Throat on my wall about school supplies and teachers. People I Want to Punch in the Throat found it came from Ginny over at Praying to Darwin and its PURE GENIUS.
For all you Mommies dealing with this shit right now, cheers!School Suppliesby XXXXXXXXXXXX on Monday, September 7, 20xx at 10:31am************************************************Dear Mrs. X:In just over a week, you will be my son’s Grade 1 teacher. He is ever so excited to be under your tutelage. Why, since the last day of kindergarten, entering your class was all he could talk about. He gleefully thrust a piece of paper into my hand on that June afternoon, and said, “Here’s a list of the stuff I need for school next September!”And I have to admit, I, too, was excited. I’m a school supplies geek from way back. And so, in early August, I set out to buy the items you’d listed. It was on my fourth store that the realization began to sink in.You’re a crafty bitch, aren’t you?This list was a thinly disguised test. Could I find the items, exactly as you’d prescribed? Because if not, my son would be That Kid, the one with the Problem Mother, Who Can’t Follow Directions.For example, the glue sticks you requested. In the 40 gram size. Three of the little buggers. (What kind of massive, sticky project you’ve got planned for the first day of school that would require the students to bring all this glue, I cannot imagine.) But the 40 gram size doesn’t come in a convenient 3-pack. The 30 gram size does. But clearly, those would be wildly inappropriate. So I got the individually priced 40’s, as per your instructions.Another bit of fun was your request for 2 packs of 8 Crayola crayons (basic colors). The 24 packs, with their 24 *different* colors, sat there, on sale. I could have purchased *three* of the 24 packs for the price I had to pay for the 8 packs. (Clearly, you’ll not be teaching the youngsters any sort of economics lessons this year.) Even the cashier looked at me, as if to say, “Pardon me, ma’am, but are you slow?” as I purchased these non-bargain crayons. But that’s what the list said. And I was committed to following the list.But the last item, well, now, you saved your malice up for that one, didn’t you? “8 mm ruled notebooks”, you asked for. Simple enough. Except the standard size is “seven” millimetres. One. Millimetre. Difference. Do you realize, Mrs. X., exactly how infinitesimal the difference between 7 mm ruling and 8 mm ruling is? Pretty small, I assure you. The thickness of a fingernail, approximately. But that millimetre, that small bit of nothingness, made me drive to four different stores, over the course of three sweaty August hours. And when I finally, finally found the last remaining 8 mm notebooks, I took no pleasure in my victory. I merely shifted my focus. To you, Mrs. X.You wanna dance, lady? Let’s dance.Because I am just batshit crazy enough to play your games. And, in turn, come up with some of my own.On show and share day, my son will be bringing the video of his birth. It will be labelled, “Ben’s First Puppy.” Enjoy.He will be given a list of words, and daily, he will ask you what they mean. Words such as “pedophile”, “anti-semite”, and “skank”. Good luck with those.At some point, you will attempt to teach him mathematics. And I’m quite sure that, like most of your ilk, you will require my son to “show his work”. And he will. Through interpretive dance.Because that is who you’ve chosen to tangle with, toots. A stay at home mom who is not entirely balanced, and has altogether too much time on her hands. But is, most certainly, A Mother Who Can Follow Directions.Sincerely,Ben’s Mom
Oh yeah, ladies, I’m with you all the way…
- Remember when I use to be crafty? Yeah, well, not anymore. I don’t do cutesy, floofy, or fancy. It’s a birthday party/wedding shower/baby shower, throw some food on the table and have cake, voila, you have yourself a party.
- I hereby solemnly swear I will never sign up to do overnight campouts again. If this means I no longer qualify as a Girl Scout leader, so be it.
- You have emotions, fantastic. Unless they are estatic joy or contentment, keep them to yourself.
Sorry for my stupidity. It’s contagious.