6 years ago I put this sign up on top of the door leading from my classroom to the rest of the world. It wasn't just for students. I was well aware of the vast miles and miles I would have to traverse before I made my final steps out of that door. Let me say, it is more than difficult to leave such an investment of myself and my time. Actually, I've been freaking out all day... like I just lived through a war and I've been endeared to it somehow, not knowing how to function with civilians again.
But function I must. And with half our income. Still, those hugs waiting for me at home verify the right choice to bow out of the battle for a spell.
Notice, please, that one of them is in pajamas after 1pm and the other has no pants.
Yes, my children do need their mother.
- The bottle of warm urine found in the middle of my room. I still wonder at how it appeared moments after I stood in that very spot, a quiet enraptured (or so I thought) class of 15-year-olds all within my gaze.
- The new "use" of clickers to record sexual stamina under the tables.
- The moment I realized that was NOT a photo of an innocent handle I had given everyone.
- The essay using Noah's flood to disprove global warming.
- The girl who asked me why I had gotten plastic surgery if it was going to make me look older.
- Urinary incontinence post child birth with no time for bathroom breaks.
- A parent asking me how much pornography on his kid's phone was too much before he should worry.
- The kid who wrote an essay about his dad taking him to a strip club when I asked him to write about some place of safety in his life.
- All the teen age boys who cried (way more than the girls).
- Catching several of my students looking flushed and sweaty in the school dark room.
- The guest sniper's slide show of inappropriate photographs of Iraqi's he had shot.
Perhaps these are the memories I should recall when I second guess my departure from public education. Oh, and there really are SOO many more. Some much too horrible to document in print.
I will miss it though. Deeply. Perhaps deeply enough to go back to war someday.
We shall see.
We shall see.
Me: Why are you calling Grandma Cindy MOM? I'm your mom. Call me mom. (hurt feelings)
Annie: No. Megan calls her MOM. You call her MOM. I will call her MOM. You're Nicole.
Me: Please call me MOM. I am your mom.
Annie: Then why does QUINN call you NICOLE? QUINN says NICOLE. You're NICOLE
Me: -------
(drawing a blank here. no response possible for such a logical train of thougt from a 2.5-year-old)
Annie: Mom, catch me a lady bug. I want to hold it in my hands and let it crawl so it will tickle me.
Me: O.K. (look outside forever. give up. come in. Hours later, Annie goes outside)
Annie: Mom, look, I found a ladybug. (holds up her hands. nothing. it's pretend).
Me: Oh really?
Annie: His name is Croose.
Me: Croose?
Annie: Yes, Croose. His name was going to be ANNIE but then we would have TWO Annie's, so his name has to be Croose.
She won't crawl. She scoots places on her bum, sucks her thumb all day, and holds soft things when she needs soothing. She is a dream. Super chubby. So happy. She will eat Mac & Cheese all day long but nothing else and cries when it is all gone. She as 4 teeth: 2 on top and 2 on bottom. She says TA TOO TA TOO and MA MA and DADDY. Her eyes are deep dark brown and her whole face lights up when she smiles. She can wave, shake her head NO when she doesn't want something, and clap. Her hugs are tight. She wants to be with Annie always. Loves stroller rides (unlike number 1), and her cheeks get red when she has dairy. She is my heart and I am her favorite and we are best friends already.
Annie and V:
