¿Qué ves ahí?

Day 3. I am settling in a bit more today. Things went a bit more smoothly than yesterday. No “incidents,” no calls home. The 2nd graders in my last hour were kept in line by my angry eyes. No crying kids… no crying teacher. I’m beginning to figure out my schedule a bit more, both in school and out.

  • 6am – Wake up. We need to report to school by 7:45; I aim for 7:00.
  • 7:15ish – Actually get to school. Putz around getting supplies together
  • 7:45 – Crowd control in the cafeteria. Impromtu meetings with my team to figure out our a.m. schedule, which is different every single day.
  • 8:15-11:30ish – Teach 6th grade, 7th grade, 5th grade, 3rd grade. Run around, sing songs, wave my arms, sweat.
  • 11:35-12:35 – Lunch, planning, meetings, drink a lot of water.
  • 12:50-3pm – Teach 5th grade, Kindergarten, 2nd grade. Sing songs, run around, read books, sweat.
  • 3ish-4:15 – File paperwork, get hugged by kids on the way out, gather sanity, stay late because the parking lot is a mess of parents, but end up staring at the wall more than working.
  • 4:30ish – Drive home, barely. Pass out for at least two hours…
  • Evening: Wake up from killer nap to do household things, pet a crazy cat, talk to el novio on the phone… plan lessons. Crash. Sleep. Repeat.
I’m definitely thinking I won’t be picking up any hours at the coffeeshop during the week. Maybe the weekend.
I can’t believe how exhausted I feel.
The kids are cute. This cat lying across my lesson plan book is cute. Tomorrow is Friday and I am going to see a cute boy.
Soon I am going to sleep and that sounds wooooonderful.

3 Responses to ¿Qué ves ahí?

  1. nkelber says:

    It is a little-known fact that sleeping is a narcoleptic which has waned in popularity since the introduction of the Poppy plant in the West. Children are exhausting in all their aspects and especially so in their lilliputian varieties. Imagine, if you will, a large gerbil fed a consistent diet of refined sugars and bright colored stimuli including Hannah Montana. Now remove the hair. Uncanny, isn’t it?

    I am glad to hear that you are doing much better. Maybe it is because I am demented, but I take special pleasure in the amount of fear that small children have for authorities. With practice, you can make small children cry without saying a single word. Of course, then you must listen to them cry. But the moment of triumph, your god, if only I had this power over other men.

  2. nkelber says:

    It’s also a little known fact that jokes aren’t nearly as funny when misworded… “teaching” is a narcoleptic… not sleeping. Oh well, it’s all ruined now. I’ll just go sulk.

  3. justshanell says:

    I wish I could say that this job gets less tiring. The truth is, it doesn’t. It gets more rewarding, but it never gets less tiring.

    It sounds like you’re having many adventures. In two months when things finally settle down and you get into the routine of things (maybe it won’t take that long, but it FEELS like it takes that long sometimes), you’re going to look back on these moments and remember them as a wonderful rush or something. I look back on my first weeks as the best I’ve had–but I know they were exhausting and well, awful.

    As for smiling at Thanksgiving–go with your gut. I worked with a substitute on my second day of student teaching. I took over the classes that day and taught everything from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight to the roles of various philosophers in the 20th century. The sub told me, “Someday you’ll realize that you’re better then them, then this will get easier.” I’ll never forget that. I’ve always tried since then NOT to be better than them. I never want to be. I want to be different, more educated perhaps, but not better. He was a fifth year subsistute, so I figured I was right and he was wrong. I’m still sure of it. I laugh and smile in the first moments. My kids know I really care about them. I say, smile everyday. Even the “bad” ones know that you’re still an authority if you smile. They may not listen to you, but I doubt they’re really going to listen either way. In fact, I’d say the only way I’ve ever really “reached” a child is by smiling constantly. Be the happiness you wish they had.

    Besides, it’s just so much more fun that way.

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