Monday, August 31, 2009

My life is not my own


The last two weeks of school and the first two weeks of school are the stuff anxiety attacks are made of. I am currently in the midst of the latter.

For a teacher, the first two weeks of school take on more of a secretarial aspect, collecting forms, sorting forms, issuing lockers, completing checklists to make sure all the correct forms have been turned in, and then delivering said forms to appropriate persons. Medical forms, registration forms, forms to join the PTA, forms to read certain books, forms to give your first born to the district. Then there are all the classroom things, like learning the names of 127 students. And just to make it easy I have a set of twins and at least 14 kids with some version of the name kayla/kalyn/kaleigh/kelsy. I'm thinking Gwyneth might have been on to something with Apple and Moses, cause I'd know those names by now.

I have a slightly different schedule this year, which takes some adjusting too, especially when it means a 1:00 lunch time. I may have to start bringing some snacks! I'm also pretty sure that I'm allergic to the combination of axe and old spice that seem to emanate from preteen boys. I am not used to eau de cafeteria or exhaust either.

As a parent, the first days of school mean getting everyone back on a sleep schedule. Making sure snacks are available and breakfast can be fixed quickly --and eaten in the car! Helping with homework and cooking dinner. Filling out forms :) It's just a little bit exhausting.

So please excuse my MIA status for the time being. I'm not a slacker, I'm just a teacher.

3 comments:

Housewife Savant said...

I'm dealing with a Bad Teacher here.
What should I do?
A) Send her a scathing email.
B) Wait in the parking lot with a sock full of quarters.
C) Report her to CPS.
D) Call her and let her know the situation.

(If you pick "D" can I use lots of swearing?)

Columbia Lily said...

good luck,

Mikki Black said...

Preach it, sister. I'm in week three...I think. Ugh. It may be week four, now that I think about it. Either way, I haven't seen my feet in days: they're always tucked under my desk while I push through the paperwork!