Monday, January 25, 2010


Let us sing for you, Mrs. S

My dear friend Shana (clearly gunning for bff status; we'll talk) posted this pic on my Facebook page today. It was, by far, the best part of my Monday.

Being a teacher, especially one of teens prone to hardship [real & manufactured], I often espouse such uplifting mantras as "It's not the end of the world" and "Things will get better." However, every 28 days now & again I want to tell my own self to f*ck off when these words flit through my consciousness. Because sometimes things FEEL LIKE the end of the world, and that they WILL NOT get better. For example:
  • Brand new darling $acrazyamountevenwitha20%offcoupon shoes that make my former bunion weep for a few hours before it just goes numb
  • Not getting tea because the limping throws off my errand-running
  • The throbbing headache that starts one minute into my first class
  • Forgetting to manage a number of key tasks for students, 3 days before the end of the quarter
  • Can't get hold of the yearbook guy to download our software [again] before things are even more overdue
  • Canker sores
  • Getting a chocolate cupcake instead of the chocolate chip coffee cake I asked for
  • Eating the damned cupcake rather than telling the barista he got it wrong
  • No time or energy to stalk see Blockbuster guy
  • Online class I need to finish before March that I haven't yet started
  • Children forgetting to do chores when they get home
  • Children rolling eyes and groaning when reminded to do chores
  • Being too tired & cold to check the mail
  • Being too tired & cold to make dinner
  • Cluttered countertops
  • Box of ornaments still without a home
  • Son not fitting into 2/3 of his underwear & jeans
  • My stupid healing foot still too swollen for the fluffy cute slippers Stu got me for Christmas
  • Needing friend time but feeling too weary & scattered to schedule

Intellectually I know I'm spinning (and things will get better; it's not the end of the world). Emotionally, however, I desperately want those Glee men to bust through my door something. Anything. Sing a song, clean my counters, check the mail. All of the above, realistically & metaphorically.

Here's to hard days.