Today was our first day back to school after the Christmas Break and a Snow Day. The children all prayed for more snow tomorrow. I enjoy snow days but they always mean that more work has to be squeezed into a shorter amount of time. I needed the snow day yesterday – the snowplows, fire trucks, and ambulances kept me up all night Monday. I was up on time on Tuesday, ostensibly when Damier is going to bed, but after getting ready for school, I learned that school was cancelled. After saying insensitive things about those not present on IM to Damier, I slept on the couch in my teaching clothes before putting my pajamas back on for the rest of the day.
It was a tragic scene when the children arrived at school this morning, those dear children, they were excited and energized, and when they saw the daily agenda on the board it was as if they had hit the doldrums. The wind went right out of their sails – except a fifth grade girl who has not stopped giggling all day. She cannot look at me without laughing. It makes me self-conscious, and I would be angered by it but Jeremy and I used to love doing that – we would look at someone, then each other, and start laughing. This drove people crazy and drove some people to tears. If either of us is smiling, we are up to something. And, yes, I checked my zipper – several times in fact.
The other funny thing is that they keep looking to the clock – which is broken – and the despair because time does not seem to be moving because it really is not. The clock ticks off one minute for every five. They feel like they have died and gone to Hell. Around lunchtime, I plan to tell them that the clock is broken – for now this is fun for me on a purely sadistic level. One child at least thinks he is making record time on his work; I will crush that achievement later as well. Do not be confused, I love the children and I am a demigod in this school in the eyes of the children, but that does not mean that I do not enjoy a harmless joke at their expense every once in a while.
The joke at my expense seems to be that despite having a nice break from school I come back to kids who have forgotten everything. They do not remember the routines; the base facts (multiplication facts, grammar rules); and many of them have forgotten their own names and where their desks are. I find myself saying things like, Your name is Fernando; that is why ‘Fernando’ is written on all of your things. That belongs to Nigel; that is why ‘Nigel’ is written on that desk. One girl went back to fourth grade – but that might be from realizing that the grass is not truly greener on the other side. That is just our carpet, I assume the carpet is green – I am colorblind; I would never know. They looked so dejected when the third grade teacher brought them back to our room. The third grade teacher has an award he gives out in his head, the Dolt of the Day, I am afraid my class would come out in a tie today. Tomorrow will be better and by next Monday they will be back up to speed. This is my argument for year round schooling because the three days after Christmas Holiday that I spend getting them back ‘into school’ is commonly called, ‘September.’ The lose a great deal when they are out and it is proportional to the amount of hair I am ripping out of my head with each passing questions. Patience is a virtue but by virtue is being tested and I am getting testy.
You can tell that the kids have just had Christmas because all their clothes look new, and by ‘new,’ I mean, “they left the tags on.” It is cute but at the same time, it is dirty. God knows who tried those pants on before they did. I realize that this is not as big a concern for children as it is for adults. I am so neurotic about it that I ask the man at the Gap to get me a pair from the back – or at least let me think I am the first one to wear them. That is reason behind my love of Gap denim and khakis – the salesmen while indulge my fear of clothing born STDs. I would be the one to get an STD of a garment. Women will not touch me so I women get one from men who try on clothing commando.
Speaking of STDs, thanks to Tiny Elvis, I was able to inform everyone that I had exposed them to crabs and scabies with an email postcard. I am sure that came as a shock to some, but I think that sharing that as soon as possible is the best policy. I signed my name to them, I know someone who sent them to every skank in their address book anonymously. That was classless and I am horrified that I did not think of it first. I am sure that those e-mail post cards were not meant to substitute for holiday greetings. The worst part is that my email and the email of anyone who got one of those greetings is probably in some database being reviewed by Dick Cheney as we speak.
Do not tell them about the clock until May-ish. And grin at them as much as possible. My friends and I used to turn around in the back seat and smile and smile and smile at the freaked-out drivers behind us. Ah, those were the days.
Your essense has infiltrated every corner of the globe...there is argyle EVERYWHERE.
Posted by: Sally | Wednesday, 04 January 2006 at 08:20 PM
I totally get your fear of clothing born STD from pants. Maybe that's why I only wear skirts. HAH!
I watched The Aviator for the first time last week. When old Howard went nutty and taped off parts of his house, locking himself in one room peeing in milk bottles, I scared myself silly because I could understand where he was coming from.
Do you have a good shrink you can recommend?
Posted by: Terri | Thursday, 05 January 2006 at 05:10 PM