school

10 Reasons I Appreciate Teachers or…

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Why You Couldn’t Pay Me Enough to Teach in School

10 teacherz

1. Stinky Children. Have you smelled a child’s breath in the morning? Do you know where those hands have been? I do. I know these smells All. Too. Well, my friends. I live with children. I know what they smell like. It’s not good. If I get 50% of my children to brush their teeth on a given morning – it’s a GOOD day. Poor, poor teachers. I deeply apologize.

2. Interruptions. I’ve taught enough small children over the years to realize that it is nearly impossible to get through anything without being interrupted. In fact, I have my own children to prove this theory. This morning as we were getting ready to leave for school I said, “Ok, everyone be quiet, we’re going to pray.” Just like we do every morning. As I take a deep breath and my lips are forming the “D” in “Dear Jesus,” my seven year old says, “Did you put my water bottle in my bag?” “Yes, close your eyes and stop talking we’re going to pray. D…” “Did you put my snack in my bag?” <deep breath> “Yes. close your eyes and stop talking we’re going to pray. De…” “Is it Halloween today?”

Lord have mercy, she did it FOUR times. In the end I had to have the five year old pray because I was too aggravated to talk to the Lord in that moment.

God bless teachers.

3. Stories. Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world where you could just tell a random story of your choosing about an irrelevant incident that happened in your life whenever the spirit moved you? Welcome to Childhoodville. Random. Random stories out of left field, probably when their teacher is trying to explain math or something. You have got to shut them down and move on, or the random storytelling will take over your life, I mean, classroom.

4. Farting. Let’s get real, Everybody farts. This includes the people who claim they don’t fart. They do. However, back in the day when I was in school, no one farted in school– or at least admitted to farting. Once, when I was in 9th grade the kid behind me accidentally farted loudly during class. With a “W” last name I was in the far back, left corner with just one seat behind me. In an instant, every single head in that classroom whipped back to our little corner of the room. In mortal fear that someone might think that I had committed the fart, I quickly turned around and glared at the kid behind me who sheepishly shrugged his shoulders as if to say, whoops. At least he manned up and owned it.

These days farting seems to be the “in” thing. I got on the bus with the 5th Graders to chaperon their class trip and before my buttocks hit the green faux leather bench, I smelled it. Stinky, unmistakable fart smell. On the crowded bus. Really? Sigh.

My five year old is always loaded. And she is unashamed. When I ask her if she does it in school she claims she doesn’t, but I’m not so sure. For a little person, she is super gassy and I don’t even know why. I can’t imagine what I’m feeding them to cause the gas buildup; it’s not like they eat vegetables or anything…

5. Questions. Ridiculous questions. Questions like, “What do you call 100 twins?” And they expect an answer, as if that’s a thing. And they won’t ask you once, they’ll ask you 400 times, apparently forgetting the 399 times they already asked you the same thing.

If teachers haven’t been driven just a little bit insane I’d be very, very surprised.

6. Discipline. Call me crazy, but I just like to work in a world where people are adults and it’s not my job to correct them.

7. Cleaning. God bless them again, but there are some teachers who even clean up their students. Imagine it’s winter and seated before you are twenty sweet and shiny faces; shiny with florescent yellow snot logs hanging just above their upper lip. The remaining log-less students’ nostrils are filled with enormous snot bubbles or crusty boogers. Bring on the tissues. And rubber gloves. And Clorox wipes. And Airborne.

Bless you teachers. Bless you.

8. Whining. Maybe this only happens at home? Somehow I doubt it. Whiners gonna whine.

9. Repeating. As in, “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Moooom, Mom…” Although I suppose in school it is something along the lines of, “Teacher, Teacher, Teacher… or Mrs. Fillintheblank, Mrs…” You get where I’m going with this… (refer back to my insanity comment.)

10. I’m leaving #10 blank for a Fill it in Yourself Competition. There is no prize other than my eternal gratitude for your understanding and empathy; for the teachers – not me, I wouldn’t do that job for a million bucks.

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It must be a calling. I cannot imagine why someone would willingly submit themselves to the stinks and sounds of a small child classroom environment if they weren’t on a mission of some kind. There just isn’t enough money in the world. All I have left to say is, whatever teachers are being paid, it isn’t nearly enough.

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Lost

clothedwithjoy 3 Comments

I got lost in scrubbing floors and shifting clothes and priming walls.

I got lost in the celebration of the end of another school year.

I got lost in the pool holding a wet five year old. I got lost in the upsidedown over and around twirl of a roller coaster. I got lost in waving to little girls in a rocking pirate ship.

I got lost crossing from state to state, pumping my own gas and riding in Amish buggies.

Being lost was lovely (except for the scrubbing floors).

5minutefriday

This post was written in 5 minutes for 5 Minute Friday. Check it out and link up here.

 

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Her Little Hands Far Away from Mine

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Hands

Today my little P left for school in the morning with her sisters for the first time.

Until now she’s attended afternoon pre-K so she and I spent every morning together. Her little hands raised in the air as I pull on her shirt. Her hand on mine as I lift her up to sit on the toilet. Her tiny hand hidden in mine as we cross the street.

Right now her little hand is holding her friend’s or maybe someone else’s mom’s hand as she climbs into a big yellow bus for the first time. Her little hands are exploring the wonders of the children’s museum as she walks around on her first ever class trip. Her little hands are opening her brown paper bag to grab her chips and eat her lunch.

Her little hands, far away from mine.

Today my big P left for school in the morning with her sisters for the first time.

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I link up with Lisa-Jo Baker every Friday and we write intensely for 5 minutes. Find us/Join us here: Five Minute Friday.

Guess what today’s word prompt was… 😉

 

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KIDS MAKE ME SICK.

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In a pool of mediocrity occasionally you come across a written piece of work, so true and so stinkin’ funny that you cry. I’m going to be laughing all day over this one. If you have taught children, parent children, occasionally spent time in the presence of children – you’re gonna get this… Enjoy, it’s worth the four minutes of your life. -Rebecca

John Lee Taggart

Kids make me sick. And, no, not just uncomfortable, or a little bit queasy – but down right, pit of the stomach, SICK. It’s just something that they do that can turn that “thank God it’s Friday!” feeling, into “thank God I didn’t eat a large greasy breakfast”…let me run you through Friday’s events real quick ~

So I’m sitting in my kindergarten class, going through one of the books – most of the kids say that it is “easy peas” (they’re Korean so cut them some slack on the misuse of the phrase!), however one of the boys struggles with learning difficulties, so I’m giving him a little bit of extra help. That’s when I hear the long whine that I hear about 3000 times a day (approximately): “Teeeeeeeaaaacccccherrr? Oh, Teaaaaaachhherrrr? Teeaaaaachherrr! TEAAAA-”

“Oh my GOH…WHAT?”

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Naked in a KFC Bathroom.

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Image

Not me. Not ever. Thankfully.

The five year old. She’s so petite that when there is input there is an immediate output. Hence, we visit a lot of restaurant bathrooms. And, of course, she cannot poop with anyone in the room. (Bonus for me.)

However, she must also be naked.

After a couple of minutes I’ll hear the call through the Ladies Room door.

“MOM! I’m done!”

In I go and there she is. Naked. On the pot. All articles of clothing including shirt, shoes and socks in a pile on the bathroom tile. As I redress her I ponder how this could possibly be the same child who says things like, “Can I eat this french fry?” after it’s fallen on our living room floor.

I assume they teach her that germ/don’t eat food off the floor stuff in Pre-K because she sure didn’t learn it at home.

Bad Words

clothedwithjoy 16 Comments

This post could step on some toes, but I’m just going to say it – I don’t like foul language. As in, I don’t use it. I think it has a lot to do with what I discussed in my post Dignity.

And as much as I don’t like it, my thirteen year old can’t stand it. The other night I said, “What the heck…” and all heck broke loose. “Mom, you already say ‘crap,’ now this is just too much.”

Sheesh, I didn’t realize I was such a potty mouth.

When I was growing up the “Sh” word meant “shut up” and the “F” word was “fart.” And I’ve kept it that way in my own home, although fart has moved into the “acceptable” language realm. Just don’t say it around my mother.

My seven year old is, of course, totally concerned with what is and is not appropriate to say. At least once a day we discuss words that may or may not be “bad.”

“Mom, can I say ‘oh my?’ Mom, is ‘yikes’ a bad word?”

The word stupid gets brought to the table quite often. Is stupid a bad word? Well, not technically, but like guns, it all depends on how you use it. Occasionally, “stupid” gets back on the list of words they can say but it rarely lasts five minutes before somebody done called somebody stupid and, just like that, “stupid” is once again off the table and back on the list of bad words.

English is a second language for all four of my children, so the discussion of what words are “bad” happens a lot around here. Of course I don’t use “bad language” at home but they still hear it in school and on TV so they are often confused about what is and is not appropriate to say.

The other day my thirteen year old and ten year old were discussing the word “dammit” and if it was a “bad word” or not. I explained the origin and clearly emphasized that it was on the “bad” list. Let’s fast forward to the next day while I am standing with the five year olds and their moms outside of school waiting to go into Pre-K. You know where this is going… My little P decides to hop across the center walk way and very loudly proclaim, “DAMMIT!” for no reason at all.

Mortified

Appalled

Ashamed

The fact is, I was more concerned with what others would think of me as a mother than why my little one said that. Sigh.

bad words

Little Stinker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PS: She was, of course, immediately corrected and set back on the straight and narrow.