I'd like to welcome a few new Chalk Heads, those who have given up their souls and committed to my cyber ramblings.
Most recently:
The Cowgirls
Rena
Shannon O'Donnell
Thanks for joining the smart-smarts' (as opposed to the dum-dums') table. I'm a gracious host. Promise.
Today was a whirlwind of flying Shakespeare lines that started at eight (Pacific time) and ended at two. Whew! Now I can finally sit-down and gather myself. I'll do the best I can, but keep in mind that I'm exhausted. There is something about teaching young(ish) kids that sucks the vibrance from your frontal lobe and leaves you feeling empty inside. I'm pretty sure it's the give, give, give part of teaching. This week, in which we've started reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, has made me think about that word (GIVE) a lot.
Here are the tangibles and intangibles I've GIVEN (or dished out) this week:
1. knowledge (It's sunny outside)
2. expertise (the power button is right there)
3. modes of survival (start wearing deodorant)
4. reassurance (your hair looks fine)
5. band-aids (which I refuse to capitalize)
6. wet wipes (to clean cuts and scrapes; how do 6th graders randomly fall like elderly people?)
7. homework (hate giving it, love seeing it completed)
8. opinions (no worries, I tread lightly in this category, but you can't pass up the chance when students ask your take on the American Music Awards or Twilight)
9. progress reports (your child talks too much, do you own a muzzle?)
10. guidance (you dropped a french fry; you should really pick it up and save a bird's life)
There are more, but I will spare you. I know that the GIVE eventually all comes back around, which is apparent at the end of the year in students' yearbook comments:
Your the best!
See ya next yeer!
Half a grate sumer!
the shackspire unite realy rockt!
But it's a good job, especially for a writer: I get to teach something I love. Long holiday breaks. Summer off. And the kids are great, when they're not wiping boogers underneath desks.
But sometimes this job leaves you empty inside, and I hate those days.
P.S. Inspiring the leaders of tomorrow can only get old when you no longer see results. And then you have to look in the mirror.
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