I honestly can’t think of a catchy title right now, so I’m stealing the prompt from my blog platform.
Work is off to a good start. The kids are all settling in, and now we are working on learning about our classroom community since we will be working and playing together for the next ten months. I do love this time of year with new kids and new school supplies (yes, I’m a perpetual student who looks forward to back to school shopping) and new adventures in teaching. I enjoy talking to previous students, hearing about their summers, catching up with previous parents, congratulating employees with babies or retirement on the way.
What I do NOT love is the complete soul stealing, mind numbing, slaughter of life that happens each August. I’m talking about the non-stop school mode. Waking up early, not to go to CrossFit, but to get to school an extra hour early to get things set up. Staying late to get all that stuff done that has nothing to do with teaching…forms, files, phone calls to track down forms, schedules, meetings, that stuff that’s not so glamorous on the Target commercials. And when I am home, am I running on the treadmill, enjoying a good book, or cooking something interesting and healthy?? Bahahahahaha. No. I’m reading school books, watching smoke fly from my fingers as I furiously type those class rolls, schedules, plans, figuring out what worked and didn’t work about the day and how to make the next day better for the kids. Skipping meals completely and forgetting that water is the life source of hydration. Or, I’m doing what I did three days in a row. I walked in, turned to my bedroom and fell facedown on the bed and slept 5:30pm-5:00am. Yes. Three days. 12 hours. And I woke up feeling even more worn out. Throw in the migraine that I first feared might finally be the aneurism I fear each August, and I’m just a big ol’ pocket full of sunshine ready to hose down the world in my sunshiny-ness like a Rainbow Brite on ‘roids.
After 13 years of teaching when will I EVER LEARN the lesson that I can’t be my best for those kids if I don’t find some balance somewhere??? And while Stephen is unbelievably supportive for these first few weeks, it’s not fair to keep running myself ragged to the point that our conversations go like this: “Hey, let me get your shoes off so you can sleep!” My response: “mumblemumble bring me my bag of books please mumblemumblemumble.zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”. That’s some scintillating conversation right there.
But one night, I had either a surge of energy or was just on the last dregs of adrenaline left from opening a big box of math blocks. I made dinner. I mean I really cooked a meal from start to finish. It was so exciting!!!
And so boring!!!
I made spaghetti again. With meatballs! And I took the time to hunt down some renegade basil. And I even took the extra few minutes to get some pictures.
This recipe was so easy.
1. Buy already seasoned and formed meatballs from Publix.
2. Cut them in half and cook them in a pan.
3. Pour in sauce.
4. Boil noodles.
5. Add to sauce.
6. Pat yourself on the back for making a great home cooked meal with 20% fresh ingredients, 80% store bought, and oh no, I’ve turned into Sandra Lee without the metric liter of vodka. Or the weird scary-scapes on my table.
I’m not even sure I recognize this woman. I think she looks a little like the one from about 3 weeks ago who had time to cook, take a shower longer than 7 minutes, and be an interesting person.
Week 2 is coming up and I will find that balance somehow. I’m much too old to feel this dang old. Or something like that. It’s in a country song somewhere.