But when you're all alone

You and your head.

That's when it's the worst. That year? Twenty-three? It seems to have showed up again. I'm not really twenty-three. But I sure feel like I'm regressing. And Body? Didn't listen. That bitch. I put in a call to Mrs. Lady Doctor. Booked up. We wait.

They let me be a teacher. Whose idea was that? Today, I contended with children crawling under tables and crying and saying they peed their pants (when they hadn't) so they didn't have to go to computer class and tearing pages from books. And oh, I yelled. And I feel guilty. I feel guilty? No, that's not this feeling. This feeling is that nagging in my brain that says if I was a good classroom leader, my students wouldn't lie to me and they'd know it wasn't okay to crawl under tables and that books are our friends and we are to love them and hold them tenderly so they can tell their stories over and over. Unless, of course, we're talking about The Da Vinci Code. My goodness, boys and girls, color on as many pages of that book as you want and I wouldn't mourn if for a moment. I'm bad at classroom management. That's the problem.

But I've never really been good at management. In many ways, I fly by the seat of my pants. No, I'm far to anxious to just fly by the seat of my pants. Besides, I've been wearing a lot of skirts lately. What am I trying to say? Teaching is hard. Rewarding, but hard. The Arizona education system is broken and I can't fix it but I sure can try my hardest to make sure that the kids don't realize they have any fewer opportunities than any televised experiences they may have absorbed and internalized.

Today, one of my students asked "Teacher, you have a mom?" Of course I have a mom but she lives far away. "Why?" Well, I moved away and she lives in Michigan. "Where do you live?" Phoenix. "Like a house?" Like a house. An apartment. "I have brothers. Do you have sister?" Yes, her name is Lauren. "I have a sister."

That was my favorite moment of the day. And there are so many moments like this in my days. I just have to remember to focus on them. Most of these kids don't mean any harm. And in many ways, as a kindergarten teacher, it's my job to train these little people to act like people. For example, if you spill apple sauce on your shirt, you should wipe it off and someone is doing something you don't like, tell them to stop. The part that makes me sad is when they have to learn things like "just because you don't want to doesn't mean you're not going to." Goodness, I'm starting to feel mean.

Today was just a rough day. It might have been easier if health wasn't an issue and my goodness, if I could just form the words to say what I really need to say. But that doesn't change the fact that I need better classroom management.

Tomorrow is a new day. And all my kids' clips are back on green. And all that stuff we didn't learn today? We'll learn tomorrow. Except, well, it'll be Wednesday and the 41st day of school.

But when you think you made it disappear
It comes again, "Hello, I'm here"


-Theresa

Because he doesn't love me.

And that's reason enough.

Looking for something pure

Twice now, I've received phone calls from you that break my heart and fill me with fire at the same time. Three hours ahead. Four and a half years behind. But Brother, I'm broken too. Don't you understand that when we hang up I wonder if it will be the last time? That I don't have anyone to talk to after we talk? That I'm lonely too? That there are worse things than pain and sadness? That I'm broken too? I can provide you with excuses and reassurance but I can't put you back together. I can't hold me together.

I can't not care. Sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, I wish I had someone like me in my life.

We watched it all night. We grew up in spite of it.

-Theresa

What rhymes with apples?

Well, it's been five weeks of teaching, twenty-four days of kindergarten, two weeks of ASU, about four tantrums and countless tears (both the students' and mine.) It's been long and it's been extremely difficult. But I've been doing it. And I kind of really love it. Most of the kids are really amazing little creatures. The remaining few created tantrums and tears of their own and mine. But you know what? They're kind of pretty amazing too. Even though I can't be entirely certain if they're learning to read and write at the pace that they should be, they're learning manners and personal responsibility. I can tell because there are fewer tantrums. And that can't ever be bad.

Life is moving forward, I think. And I need to be moving with it. I'm certainly trying in some ways. And regressing in others. I got an elephant tattoo last weekend on a pseudo-whim. It seems whenever there's a big change in my life and I feel overwhelmed and I need to take control, I change something on my body. It's never the way I dress or a better diet. No, nothing of the sort. When I moved away from home, I got my nose pierced. After getting the most specific vague answer to prayer, I got my first tattoo. After discovering I had to have surgery and putting plans to move to Phoenix into action, I got my nose pierced again. After becoming a kindergarten teacher and realizing there was no way I could walk away from it, I got an elephant tattoo. I change these things about myself because they are things I know are there. I knew all the the events were going to be big, life-changing events. And they all have been. And just like those people who get tattoos in memory of people who have died (like they'd ever forget), I permanently change something about myself, for myself, in memory of my reasoning and the process. That's ridiculous. Aren't tattoos and piercing supposed to be that weird shit that teens do to piss off their parents. I guess wisdom comes with age.

Did I mention I'm turning twenty-five? I'm turning twenty-five. Not until November, but still. I mean, I guess I've done things now and it shouldn't be so scary. But it is. I've gone to college. And I'm going again. And I have a "real" job because it's a career and I get paid enough to pay my bills. And I've travelled. But I feel like I haven't learned enough and I haven't given back enough and I haven't explored enough. Not to be twenty-five. I know. I know. I'm over-thinking this. But what don't I over think? I'm doing all these things that lean toward the "grown-up" color of the spectrum but I still don't feel... settled. I think that makes sense. Also, I never, EVER wanted to be a grown-up. I am older than some of my students' parents. It's okay. You don't have to throw up in your mouth. I just threw up in mine.

Things I've (re)learned:

I love children's books.
Dr. Seuss will always make me smile.
Gluten is mean.
Money is stupid.
I love tea.
I miss a real Fall.
Goodness, being a mother (not that I will be soon) scares the living daylights out of me.
Teaching reminds me how afraid I am to have kids of my own.
I love being a teacher.
Even if I hate lesson planning.
Kindergartners have a lot to say once they know you're listening.
You can never tell a person too many good things about oneself.

-Theresa