I'm going to church today for the first time in over a year. Well, we went to a Chaldean church for Christmas when my mom was here. But in the interest of... interest, it's been over a year. I'm excited and nervous. And a little worried that it won't feel like it used to.
And when I get back? Lesson planning and grading!!!! Yay! I have a break this week but I want to get on top of it all. And be a better teacher since they keep giving me these breaks.
Anyway, I should probably go take that shower I should have taken a few days ago.
-Theresa
21 November 2010
19 November 2010
A mantra, of sorts.
Or, Too Much (Not enough) Information
Help me, Fiber, for I can't shit.
It's been five days since my last excretion.
Oh, I so went there. My tummy hurts. I'm probably going to hell for using my Catholic background like this.
Help me, Fiber, for I can't shit.
It's been five days since my last excretion.
Oh, I so went there. My tummy hurts. I'm probably going to hell for using my Catholic background like this.
15 November 2010
Four-day weekends and twenty-five
My goodness, this was a good weekend. I turned twenty-five and I spent the day just being. I cleaned my room. You'd be impressed. I haven't seen this much floor since before I moved in. I went shopping and spent time with people without worrying about where I had to be and when. And I didn't even plan one lesson. It was just... relaxing. Nice. Friday night? I recorded a Disney Channel movie based on a teen book by the same name (the book was totally better) in order to play Settlers. Then I slept in on Saturday and watched the movie in my pajamas. Being an adult isn't so bad.
But I miss my kids. Jeez. Did you see what I wrote? My kids. I mean, my students. But I like those little people. Even when they break my heart and a little bit, my spirit, I really appreciate them. We read The Kissing Hand again recently. It was a book we'd read on the first day of school but reread it for some comprehension objective I can't remember but could pull out a lesson plan to tell you. Regardless, we've been discussing what all the pictures are really showing. On the last page, Chester (or his mom) is giving the sign language symbol for "I love you." I explained to them what it meant. Now, about a third of the time I hear "teeeeesheeerrr, loooook," I see them showing me their loving gesture. The other two-thirds? A semblance of completion in a task or someone doing something wrong. Although, arguably, they're supposed to raise their hands and wait for me to call on them, which would mean that two-thirds of the time, they're breaking a rule. But that other third? It totally makes up for being called an article of clothing.
These little beings? They just wanted to be loved. Their eyes just get big with shock and sheer jubilation when I sign back to them that yes, I am so fond of them, I love them. Sometimes, I say it too. Even when I'm tired and cursing myself for not having prepared back-up plans for a substitute in order to call in sick, it brings light to my day. They know I get frustrated. I think they know I know they get frustrated. Well, most of them. But those moments when they sign to me, they're telling me it's okay. They're telling me to keep going. And in my gesture of love to them and of course, my words, the recognize that they are allowed to make mistakes. In fact, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, I encourage it. It's how we learn. But I know for a fact, it is not a mistake loving these growing people.
I've heard people say things about how it's different when they're your kids. The love you have for people. The little things don't bug you as much. These small creatures have been nowhere in me but my heart. Their gestations periods were in women with their same last names. They go home to tell someone all about their days. But I am genuinely happy every day I get to spend with them. It makes me sad that, already, three of my students have been abruptly pulled from the school for reasons I'm not aware. I am honest every time I raise two fingers and a thumb. These people whose first language isn't English can certainly understand it.
So I miss my kids. Those people I spend most of my days with. It's perfectly rational to miss them, I think. And worry for them. And wish I was playing with them instead of teaching them grammar. Don't get me wrong--I wish I had weekends this long a little more often. But I do love those kids.
But I also understand, I feel maybe one one-hundredth of what my mother continues to feel for me. They are only mine through May so I'd better make the most of our time together. Even when I'd rather be sleeping.
-Theresa
But I miss my kids. Jeez. Did you see what I wrote? My kids. I mean, my students. But I like those little people. Even when they break my heart and a little bit, my spirit, I really appreciate them. We read The Kissing Hand again recently. It was a book we'd read on the first day of school but reread it for some comprehension objective I can't remember but could pull out a lesson plan to tell you. Regardless, we've been discussing what all the pictures are really showing. On the last page, Chester (or his mom) is giving the sign language symbol for "I love you." I explained to them what it meant. Now, about a third of the time I hear "teeeeesheeerrr, loooook," I see them showing me their loving gesture. The other two-thirds? A semblance of completion in a task or someone doing something wrong. Although, arguably, they're supposed to raise their hands and wait for me to call on them, which would mean that two-thirds of the time, they're breaking a rule. But that other third? It totally makes up for being called an article of clothing.
These little beings? They just wanted to be loved. Their eyes just get big with shock and sheer jubilation when I sign back to them that yes, I am so fond of them, I love them. Sometimes, I say it too. Even when I'm tired and cursing myself for not having prepared back-up plans for a substitute in order to call in sick, it brings light to my day. They know I get frustrated. I think they know I know they get frustrated. Well, most of them. But those moments when they sign to me, they're telling me it's okay. They're telling me to keep going. And in my gesture of love to them and of course, my words, the recognize that they are allowed to make mistakes. In fact, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, I encourage it. It's how we learn. But I know for a fact, it is not a mistake loving these growing people.
I've heard people say things about how it's different when they're your kids. The love you have for people. The little things don't bug you as much. These small creatures have been nowhere in me but my heart. Their gestations periods were in women with their same last names. They go home to tell someone all about their days. But I am genuinely happy every day I get to spend with them. It makes me sad that, already, three of my students have been abruptly pulled from the school for reasons I'm not aware. I am honest every time I raise two fingers and a thumb. These people whose first language isn't English can certainly understand it.
So I miss my kids. Those people I spend most of my days with. It's perfectly rational to miss them, I think. And worry for them. And wish I was playing with them instead of teaching them grammar. Don't get me wrong--I wish I had weekends this long a little more often. But I do love those kids.
But I also understand, I feel maybe one one-hundredth of what my mother continues to feel for me. They are only mine through May so I'd better make the most of our time together. Even when I'd rather be sleeping.
-Theresa
06 November 2010
One long week.
Rather than trying to think about this week and what it meant and what I can do to change it, I will merely present facts. My goodness, I've described many weeks as long but this one might take the cake of my post-college years. Long weeks were a given in my college years as many days lasted forty hours. I digress.
Monday night, ASU classes. Didn't go to dinner I was mistakenly invited to as I'm not black. Grad school is just like freshman year of college for many people, it seems. And I intend on not returning to that year. Home by 9:30.
Tuesday, I can't remember anything worth reporting other than I think it was the only night I was back to my apartment by eight.
Wednesday begins the fun.
*Phone call from the office. "Find someone to cover your class as soon as possible and come to the office."
*Newly arrived Arabic speaking student, shocked that anyone at the school spoke Arabic introduced herself to me weeks earlier (another teacher had told her), had been attacked by another student and couldn't bring herself to speak English or calm down. I spent half an hour in the office with a teacher watching my class and her class calming this girl down and explaining exactly why it's not a bad thing that she came to America. I done the government proud.
*Run into another Arabic speaking family who needs help with translation for a program that, ironically, teaches them English. Promise to help the following day.
*Model teacher night. Two hour meeting where I talk about how my life in the classroom is going.
*Dinner with a friend. Awesome.
Thursday, I've been outed. Administration is shocked by the fact that I'm not some dumb American who moved to Arizona but can't speak Spanish. They see my value. Damn it.
*TeachTeachTeach. I'm working hard on pulling my kids back in. I don't know what I did wrong but they're going crazy.
*Catch a teacher who fainted from a finger prick.
*Go to a training about refugees. Actually helpful.
*Back to school to help translate for parents who want to know how to buy the book in their English class among other things. Turns out, they're Chaldean.
Friday, my crowning jewel, is a half day for students.
*Feeling sick. The sore throat kind.
*Sent all but one of my students to centers because she needed someone to talk to. For an hour.
*My kids wanted to eat outside so we ate at picnic tables. The plan was that we go to recess after but there was a playground right nearby that they were instructed not to play on. Three students go for it anyway. Including Little Miss Chatterbox.
*Recess. There's a dog on the playground. Half my kids freak out, other half excited. I catch the dog but it's freaking out because so many kids are running at him. Definitely a him. Ask another teacher to call the office. Office tells us to bring him up. There's a gross patch on his neck so I don't want to carry him so I ask for string. In the mean time, kids are freaking out even more. Dog starts nipping at me and other teacher is able to help me and walk the dog up.
*Back inside. There's only a half hour of school left so, free choice time. I spend that half hour talking to the girl I already talked to for an hour about how she thinks I don't care about her and I shouldn't be so bossy. My heart broke as I tried to explain that creating rules isn't being bossy and by holding her to the same standards I hold everyone else and being fair, I actually care for her quite a bit. Given, there's family background but still. She's only six. How do I get this girl to see that I care for her?
*Professional Development. SUCKED.
*Prepare for the Fall Festival.
*Fall Festival.
*Home by 8:30.
And today? I've only left my bed to make breakfast and use the bathroom. I'm full on sick. I'm totally taking advantage of this and watching TV on hulu and reading all day. And I ate a bag of chips. Guilt free. I can lesson plan tomorrow.
Oh, and I'm turning twenty-five in a few days.
-Theresa
Monday night, ASU classes. Didn't go to dinner I was mistakenly invited to as I'm not black. Grad school is just like freshman year of college for many people, it seems. And I intend on not returning to that year. Home by 9:30.
Tuesday, I can't remember anything worth reporting other than I think it was the only night I was back to my apartment by eight.
Wednesday begins the fun.
*Phone call from the office. "Find someone to cover your class as soon as possible and come to the office."
*Newly arrived Arabic speaking student, shocked that anyone at the school spoke Arabic introduced herself to me weeks earlier (another teacher had told her), had been attacked by another student and couldn't bring herself to speak English or calm down. I spent half an hour in the office with a teacher watching my class and her class calming this girl down and explaining exactly why it's not a bad thing that she came to America. I done the government proud.
*Run into another Arabic speaking family who needs help with translation for a program that, ironically, teaches them English. Promise to help the following day.
*Model teacher night. Two hour meeting where I talk about how my life in the classroom is going.
*Dinner with a friend. Awesome.
Thursday, I've been outed. Administration is shocked by the fact that I'm not some dumb American who moved to Arizona but can't speak Spanish. They see my value. Damn it.
*TeachTeachTeach. I'm working hard on pulling my kids back in. I don't know what I did wrong but they're going crazy.
*Catch a teacher who fainted from a finger prick.
*Go to a training about refugees. Actually helpful.
*Back to school to help translate for parents who want to know how to buy the book in their English class among other things. Turns out, they're Chaldean.
Friday, my crowning jewel, is a half day for students.
*Feeling sick. The sore throat kind.
*Sent all but one of my students to centers because she needed someone to talk to. For an hour.
*My kids wanted to eat outside so we ate at picnic tables. The plan was that we go to recess after but there was a playground right nearby that they were instructed not to play on. Three students go for it anyway. Including Little Miss Chatterbox.
*Recess. There's a dog on the playground. Half my kids freak out, other half excited. I catch the dog but it's freaking out because so many kids are running at him. Definitely a him. Ask another teacher to call the office. Office tells us to bring him up. There's a gross patch on his neck so I don't want to carry him so I ask for string. In the mean time, kids are freaking out even more. Dog starts nipping at me and other teacher is able to help me and walk the dog up.
*Back inside. There's only a half hour of school left so, free choice time. I spend that half hour talking to the girl I already talked to for an hour about how she thinks I don't care about her and I shouldn't be so bossy. My heart broke as I tried to explain that creating rules isn't being bossy and by holding her to the same standards I hold everyone else and being fair, I actually care for her quite a bit. Given, there's family background but still. She's only six. How do I get this girl to see that I care for her?
*Professional Development. SUCKED.
*Prepare for the Fall Festival.
*Fall Festival.
*Home by 8:30.
And today? I've only left my bed to make breakfast and use the bathroom. I'm full on sick. I'm totally taking advantage of this and watching TV on hulu and reading all day. And I ate a bag of chips. Guilt free. I can lesson plan tomorrow.
Oh, and I'm turning twenty-five in a few days.
-Theresa
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