SCF

Doesn't quite have the ring that SWF does. But I am. Single, now, I mean. And it was hard. It had been a year. More than. And I liked him more than I admitted. It was a front so as to make it easier. But it didn't. It rarely does, my stupid methods of self-preservation. Well, they suck. I don't regret my decision, I don't think. It seemed the right time. If there is a right time. It was the most honest talk we'd ever had, I think. I think and I think and I think. I don't know what else to say. Just that I wish I had more friends to call and talk about this. This? Life. That I wish I had more friends to talk to about life.

The Return of the Coffee Addiction

I was doing so well. I didn't need coffee to wake up or stay up or get through the day. And I didn't need to replace it with anything else either. I could drink coffee when I wanted to enjoy the flavor instead of when I needed the effects.

And then, Last Week happened. Last Week was just rough. Some old health problems remerged. A problem I haven't dealt with yet hasn't gone away. I'm a teacher and I go to school. Just... Rough. So, Monday morning, I made myself a cup of coffee in the morning and it tasted good. Really good. But I only drank half of it and I didn't feel guilty. But then Tuesday showed up and I was tired from class the night before so I made more coffee. This time, I finished my mug before school even started. Every morning since then, I've caffeinated myself. People, I didn't mean to. It just happened! And now, I can't hurt the coffee's feelings by not taking it to work with me every morning. Coffee would feel sad and abandoned. Coffee came all that way from Columbia or Africa to the store to my cupboard, which is an awfully long way to go and then get ignored. So, I'm just doing a service, you know?

The coffee understands. The coffee's back. And I'm sorry I ever let coffee go in the first place. Coffee just... knows me. Coffee gives me the jitters and that feeling in my stomach that no one nothing else does. So coffee is back in my life and I'm not ashamed of it anymore!

Now, I'm going to go get a refill.

-Theresa

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

Miss Bindergarten

Gets Ready for Kindergarten.

I'm at a coffee shop because even though I'm getting ready for kindergarten, I'm not hooked up to the internet at my apartment yet. And I'm not ready for kindergarten. Twenty years. That's how long it's been since I've been in a kindergarten classroom. Okay, that's not true anymore because I've been setting up my classroom for the last two weeks. I'm so overwhelmed by it all. If I screw it up, these kids aren't prepared for the rest of the their lives. I know. I know. A little dramatic. But TFA got to me. I'm setting these kids up for failure if they don't get everything they need to succeed for first grade in kindergarten. If I screw up and don't show them how to count by fives correctly, I may as well just have them watching Dora the Explorer all day because at least they'd learn how to cross a bridge and be friends with a monkey or whatever it is she does when she's exploring. Needless to say, probably because I already said it in that textual vomit you just skimmed through, I'm feeling nervous and insecure about my abilities as a teacher and the reasons TFA chose me.

Tomorrow, I'm walking into my classroom and not letting those kids smell fear. I met seven of them on Thursday during Meet the Teacher night. It turns out, they were meeting me. I had a lot of fun with them but I can tell they're going to be a handful. In the best way possible. We're going to play a little and calm our nerves. Them and me. And we're going to look at the calendar and learn the days of the week and sing the August song. And we're going to learn how to line up without pushing or running on our marshmallow toes and that we shouldn't cry or be afraid of the fire drill sirens. Then, I'm going to read The Kissing Hand. I hope it puts them at ease with kindergarten. They'll make cutouts of their own hands with hearts glued on the inside to give to their parents. I'll think about all the places I've left with my hands in my pockets because no one cared to kiss them. But then! A note will fall out of the book and Chester the raccoon will lead us on a tour of the school, which will end on the playground. I'm not sure what the rest of the day will look like just yet because I haven't read through my lesson plans in a few days and that's what I'm procrastinating right now. But we'll do some math and some community circle and then they'll go to specials and home and I'll be freaking out that I'll have 179 more days of failure ahead of me. But that's a terrible attitude. I'll have 179 more days of potential success ahead of me and all my kids because failure is not an option. Because I have to set these kids up for success. Have to.

Miss Thomas is getting ready for Kindergarten. I bought my very own copy of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. Now, I feel like a real teacher. I will leave this coffee shop shortly and spend time in an internet-free zone when I will have to be more creative in my methods of procrastination. I will set out a sensible but fun outfit and make sure I have all my students' gift bags ready. Then, I'll go through my lesson plans for the millionth time to make sure there's no way I can fail them. Actually, first I think I'll head to Borders to buy the Miss Bindergarten series since I couldn't find it at any of the used books stores. It must be a real gem of a book. Oh, then I'll have to work on creating a unit assessment because TFA said so. I just don't ask questions anymore.

Yesterday, I didn't drink any coffee. It felt great.

Love:

Snack time
Kindergarten
Phoenix rain storms
wi-fi
Fresh fruit
Hugs
Charles in Charge
Macaroni and cheese (even if it is gluten free)

Fears:

Being a bad teacher
Cockroaches
Not being able to speak Spanish
Palo Verde Beetles

To be Determined:

Living alone (for the time being)
Jon lives two hours away
Gluten Free diet
All this alone time.

Needs:

Love
Vacation
Time to write
Hugs

-Theresa

Five Eternally

When I was five, the summer before first grade, I was a kindergarten teacher. I played school. While the other little girls began promising themselves in sickness and in health to boys in polygamous relationships marked by rings forged of grass, I tried to trap kids in the basement. I was the Sphinx of Marshall St. Anyone who wandered into the maze of our front lawn was ushered down the stairs and into my mother's castaway seating--desks. I pulled out my materials--forgotten items from around the house and toys that had taught my older brother how to read. I didn't have the skinny chalk like my teacher did but my parents wanted to encourage my creativity and time outside, but not too far, so I had an arsenal of sidewalk chalk. Cousins and old classmates became each others peers as I took my place in front of the row of chairs. I took out my chalk and my easel and began deliberately practicing my name and urged others to practice their own. If I had had the choice, I would have spent my summer in that basement, teaching. However, my class rebelled. My arranged marriage was to be held the next day. We would draw the aisle on the cement in the backyard with my classroom chalk. My dreams of teacherdom would be focused down a different path. The next day, I was to be married to my best student with handwriting better than mine, who had already been married the day before.

I am going to be a kindergarten teacher. My formal training for the school I will be at will start on Monday. I don't think I could be happier.

-Theresa

Only Babies Cry

I keep this in mind as I progress through the proverbial hell that is Institute. It gets harder with each passing day but in other ways it gets easier. I've built a rapport with my CMA (corps member advisor), I have a few friends and I still feel a little directionless. And I think that's okay.

Yesterday, in addition to working on lesson plans, I also made a mix CD for the members of the CMA group I'm in. It was so very therapeutic. Of course, none of these people know how to interpret my CDs and most of them probably won't figure it out but I'm okay with it. It was enough to make the CD.

I'm really enjoying my time teaching. There are the two girls I relate with because they both really enjoy reading. I spend a lot of time talking to them about life and such as well but they're great. And there's the one boy who I keep trying to reach out to but it's difficult when he's sleeping through half the class. It's a challenge and I love it.

The teaching part isn't hard. That's easy. The only thing easier for me is connecting with my students. It's breaking everything down in a manner that is TFA appropriate. That's the problem. I know that I break everything down and I analyze until you all want to punch me in the face as much as I want to punch myself in the face but oh, my goodness, I never knew there would be so many steps to plan a lesson. Gah.

But I do love it. And I definitely see teaching as something I can do forever. I just need a job.

Will everything else just fall into place?

-Theresa

Week One, Down.

I'll be starting week two of institute tomorrow. I still don't have a real job yet but for summer school, I'm teaching 9th grade English. Pretty excited about that. I don't really have anything to say at the moment other than that I should be keeping better track of what's going on right now and I'm not. I did, however, come up with a classroom theme: Compose Your Future.

We keep track of class progress with a volume dial. Tickets that go out to students for acting properly throughout the day are concert ticket. The bathroom pass is the backstage pass. We keep track of consequences on the score. Raffle tickets students earn are turned in at the box office. If they win the raffle, they get the chance to choose what music we listen to in the morning. I'm pretty excited about it.

I have to finish doing some work now. Which is all I ever say anymore. But I also have to be awake at 4:50 tomorrow. In the morning. That's not a real time, I don't think.

-Theresa

Maybe not.

Remember how I got sent away from that interview because already hired by a district? Yeah, me too. The schools for that district did their hiring today. I was not even interviewed. So I'm being thrown back into the hiring pool and could end up anywhere. My goal is to keep it together and stay positive. That's all I need to do is stay positive. Since 2002, every corps member has been found a job. So that's promising. I just wanted to be chosen and not be leftovers, you know? And everyone's coming back with jobs. And I'm used to being hard on myself and it being lies about how I'm not good enough and stuff. But this is kind of tangible proof. So I'm going to a Transitional Team Leader dinner in a little bit. That'll be good. So I guess this is TFA.

I'm being flexible. Or trying to.

-Theresa