Showing posts with label panic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label panic. Show all posts

3.20.2012

It's Test-Taking Day!


Each year, same thing: a special meeting to train us to have the wherewithal to undergo the precise measures that must be taken on this very special test-taking day.

Each year, same thing: I wonder what dolt has actually done the things we're being told specifically not to do, unless we'd like to find work in another career path once next school year rolls around. I mean, they wouldn't tell us not to do it unless this had actually happened before, right?

So today, without further delay, I give you a day in the test administering life of my imagined version of the teacher that caused all this ruckus in the first place:

I wake up, squinting against the light coming in through the window.  Light? It mustn't be. The clock registers the amusing truth: it's late. Much later than it should be. I guess I had one too many drinks at Al's Drink Emporium last night. Shrugging, I amble through my morning. Let 'em wait, I always say!


When I reach the school, the halls are buzzing with activity. Kids scrambling to class, teachers milling in the hallways drinking coffee and chatting happily about the big day.


Oh that's right, I think to myself. It's test-taking day! I chuckle to myself at having forgotten this important day, and head to class to make sure my little sweethearts have arrived safely. After tossing a few orders out, I head to the office. Time to pick up our tests!


The halls are quiet now, so I slip into the teacher's lounge and rummage around for the coffee. It seems nobody had time to put on a fresh pot this morning, so I figure it's the least I can do to get one started. Once I have a nice steaming cuppa Joe, I check my mailbox. Empty. I head off to grab those tests.


My assistant principal is waiting for me, test packet in hand, toe tapping. He looks like he barely slept at all last night. 


"You were supposed to pick these up thirty minutes ago!" he glowers, "Hurry back to class! It's test-taking day!"


With a smile and a nod, I grab the tests and am on my way.  Eesh, I think, he sure is testy today. I can't help but chuckle at my little joke. I am so witty!


Back in class, I mumble good morning to the kids and start passing out tests. The sooner we start, the sooner it's over. May as well get going.  I have a list of kids that are supposed to have special accommodations, but I forgot to get the right materials, so I say a little prayer that they'll be okay without them. There's also a huge list of instructions I'm supposed to read, but what the heck -- they've seen this stuff before.


"Let's get this show on the road!" 


Pencils go up, booklets open. Heads snap down and begin reading through endless passages meant to measure their knowledge.


I love test-taking day. A nice full day of peace and quiet! I snap open my phone and check my Face Book page. There's a new comment thread on the latest movie, so I send my thoughts. I glance at the clock. Only two minutes have passed. This is going to be a long day. Good thing I brought along a nice, long book. Taking those few extra minutes to myself this morning is definitely going to pay off.


We're supposed to stand and roam the classroom, monitoring student progress. What a bore! I have a seat behind my desk and flip my laptop open. There's a great shoe sale on Target and I really need to update my Pinterest boards. Surely that will kill some time.


A hand pops up in the air. It's little Suzy.


"What is it?" I ask.


She motions for me to come over.


Great. These kids are always interrupting me! With a long sigh, I walk over to her desk.


"What's the problem?"


She tells me she doesn't understand a word in the passage she's reading. I explain what it means, pat her on the head and walk back to my desk. My good deed for the day. Besides, I feel a little bad that I didn't give her the reading overlay she's supposed to have. Oh well, lesson learned!


The rest of the morning passes fairly quickly. My phone rings a few times, but I silence it each time -- I certainly won't take any phone calls during a test! I have snacks and bottles of water set up in the back of the room, so the kids can get up and serve themselves when they need something. Sometimes they stop and chat a bit, which is a nice break for them, I think.


Just before lunch, I decide to order myself a pizza. All this test-taking business has really made me work up an appetite! When the pizza guy arrives, I tell the kids to leave their tests at their tables and grab their lunches. We sit around the room eating our food. On test-taking day, nobody eats in the lunchroom. Too loud. So we chat quietly, discussing the test and offering advice to each other. It's a real brainstorming session! By the time the kids get back to work, I think they feel pretty excited to finish the test.


It feels too quiet now, so I turn on the radio. Nothing like a little heavy metal to really get those brain juices flowing! A few kids look up in alarm, but once they realize it's just some good old fashioned rock and roll, they quickly get back to work.


I open my purse and grab a bottle of bubblegum pink nail polish. May as well use this time wisely! My nails could really use a new coat of color. I set to work applying the polish to my nails, determined not to notice the two kids in the corner whispering to each other.


Another hour passes and I realize I really need a bathroom break. I don't want to stop the kids in the middle of all their hard work, so I slip quietly out the door and head for the bathroom. I don't really like using the bathroom nearest my room -- the light flickers like I'm in a bad horror film -- so I go down to the next hall. I'll only be gone a minute, so I'm sure the kids will be fine.


By the time I get back to class, a few of the kids are all grouped together looking at each other's tests.


"Whoa, guys! What's going on in here?" I ask, surprised that they aren't still working.


They scramble back to their seats without another word.


Bobby, my very brightest student, informs me that he has finished his test. I grab it up and head back to my desk. He starts drawing pictures to pass the time. I glance over his work and see that although he circled all the answers in his test booklet, he hasn't bubbled in all the answers on his answer document. He's had such a long day of testing, I hate to bother him again. I grab a pencil and fill in the rest of the answers for him. Problem solved!


I realize I can use Bobby to help me out. I call him over and tell him that he's earned the special privilege of Official Test Monitor. I even give him a little badge to wear, made out of construction paper. I am really outdoing myself today!  Bobby spends the rest of the afternoon wandering through the class, keeping everybody in line. I think he really enjoys his new responsibility.


Slowly, all the kids turn in their tests. We're done! I congratulate the kids on their hard work and tell them they can have free time for the rest of the day. Cheers and hoots of celebration ring through the room. I mentally pat myself on the back for being so awesome. And while they're playing, I can give myself that pedicure I've desperately been needing. This is turning out to be one of the best test taking days of all time!


After looking through their work and grading all the tests myself, I hand all the huge bundle of tests and answer sheets to one of my most trustworthy students and ask him to run it down to the office.


Another test taking day successfully completed!

3.10.2012

Thursday's are Bittersweet



This is seriously rough. But this has been tumbling around in my head, refusing to let me write anything I'd actually want to share. If, after reading it, you find yourself wondering what on earth I'm talking about, go here.

Most days,
I’m okay.
Wake up.
Get dressed.
Feed dog.
Make coffee.

Drive to work.

Teach class.
Read, write.
Relate.
Communicate.

Go home.

But Thursday’s are bittersweet.
On Thursday:
Drive thirty minutes,
pick up the son
that doesn’t live here
Anymore.

Eat dinner.
Laugh.
Watch TV.
Play games.
Pretend
Everything is okay.

Time’s up.

Drive him home.
Share.
Connect.
One last hug;
One quick “I love you.”

Car door slams.

Exhale.
Swallow hard.
Push tears back.
Breathe.

Drive home.
Alone.
Missing the son
that doesn’t live here anymore.

3.05.2012

So Quickly



They grow up.

Your mom warns you. "Don't blink, it all goes so quickly," she says. "One day you're changing diapers, the next you're sending them off to college." And she shakes her head. She chuckles.

You think she is crazy.

It all goes so quickly? What a joke! What is quick about diapers and dishes and the ever present disaster in this house? Quickly. She's off her rocker.



You're convinced you'll have these moments forever. Relaxing together after Kindergarten, reading stories at bedtime, cheering at soccer games, hunched over homework.


These days are long. It's only the night that goes quickly. That last stolen glance into the bedroom; peaceful sleeping faces nestled against Star Wars bed covers. You yawn, mentally ticking off your list of to-do's before you too, can sleep.

But still, her words echo in your mind.

You close your eyes.

Middle school dances, pizza parties, last minute research papers; an uncomfortable itch starts to settle in your mind.

Was she right?

You blink.

There are high school schedules to figure out, which may as well be a corn maze attempted with a blindfold. You sit side by side deciphering the wide world of electives, thankful that they still want your help for something besides movie money.  Suddenly: Driver's Ed, dating, football games, first jobs, and then; an order form for a cap and gown?




It all goes so quickly, you think.

Why didn't anyone warn you? You need more time to prepare!

You chuckle. You shake your head.

And want, fiercely, to call your mom.

7.29.2010

Summer Slipping By

The past few weeks have been too full and too frenzied to summarize here, but I'll try with a list:


  • Road trips, especially with 5 children, are loud and lovely
  • It is possible to lose weight and feel better on vacation -- I have proof!
  • The scritchscratching in the back of my head about what I "should" be doing is very loud when I am trying to relax.
  • I love the just-before-dawn hours, the purple hazy grey hours, driving down the road, 5 kids asleep, chitter-chatter-laughing with The Husband as we go.
  • Momster is still Momster.  I doubt now that she will ever change her eating habits, and it makes me very sad.
  • Everyone should enjoy food from a farmer's market.  There is nothing else like it.
  • There is still not much better than a tube to float on, a cold drink to keep you warm, and a spring-fed river to replenish your soul.
  • It is possible for a 13 year old boy to break a 35 year old woman's heart.  Dos has decided to go live with his father.
There is much more, and the memories are like fish swimming about in my head, and maybe -- if I can get out the words about Dos, about my tiny boy -- my little monkey -- my rope climber, face licker, raspberry giver, misdiagnosed originally, hug squeezing little Aspie that will be sleeping somewhere else in a couple of weeks ...

Well, if I can get all those words out, maybe I will find something more to say.

1.27.2010

You Win Some...

A few weeks ago I decided that I was definitely, no matter what, come what may, taking January 27 off from work.  One of my best friends was having surgery, Uno and Dos had half days at school, and I really need to go have my last name changed all official-like.  Lots to do, perfect day to miss work without guilt.  A done deal.

This past week, I realized that this was just not going to happen.  Serious work issues, then multiple coworkers out sick, one at the hospital with her son.  My team needed me.  My class needed me.  I just couldn't miss.  I could just figure out another time for the official name stuff, find rides home for the boys, and my friend was surrounded by family so I could check up with her later.  Ok.  Fine.  Work was going to win, this time.

I woke up nice-and-mind-jarringly-awake at 7:45 this morning. Seven! Forty! Five!  OH, what a great start to the day.  I leaped out of bed, ran and banged on the boys doors, and like any decent Drill Sergeant, began barking out orders.  I grabbed my phone, called the school, and informed them I was running, oh, an hour late.  They swiftly informed me there was no one to cover my class, due to all our specialists being needed for testing today.  Awesome.  That meant one thing -- my principal would be with my class until I got there.

At approximately 8:05, we ran from the house and jumped in the truck, me hoping against all odds that I could still, at the very least, save the boys from being late because I am an idiot.  Dos was my first delivery, one full minute before he was supposed to be in class. Good luck, kid, I think, as I tear off en route to Uno's school.

I'm beginning to feel a little better, knowing I have plenty of time as I round the corner to the high school, when I spot the police car sitting in the median.  Nutburgers, I think, knowing my time has run out.  My inspection is expired, and seriously, I know it's not difficult to renew, but, as stated earlier, I am an idiot, and I just haven't taken care of it.  Now, any other day, I think I may have scooted past him unnoticed.  But oh no, not today.  I drive past, and he does a slow turn around, lights blaring, and I sigh, pull over, and tell Uno, since we're sitting right in front of his school, to hop out and get to class.  He shakes his head, says, "This is not your day," and ambles off to class.

Tears are already forming.  I cannot stand being pulled over.  I hate this reaction, this stupid dumb-girl overspill of emotion, but, there it is.  The officer comes up, talks about my inspection, and all I can do is nod and cry.  Insurance card, he asks?  Well, sure.  Oh... but... no.  I haven't put then new one in the truck, so I'm sitting with an impotent slip of paper that does me no good.  More tears.  He hands me two citations for being, what was it?  OH yes, an idiot.  And I'm free to go to work, now sobbing, because, I don't know, maybe I should have just taken the stupid day off from work and none of this would have happened to begin with!

Arriving at work, I get my dumb girly emotions in check, walk-run to my classroom as fast as I can, thinking, Okay, my kids know the routine.  They do the same thing every morning, they've got this covered.  I am going to walk in and they are going to be pleasantly hard at work, just like they do every morning.  I have taught them self-reliance.

Except, I haven't.  One of the specialists is in my room (Score! My principal didn't have to come to my class!) and my kids are noisy, wandering the room, confused.  I breeze in, asking what they are working on.  They stare at me, wide-eyed.  They do not know.  I ask what we normally do each morning, and they tell me.  Then a massive OOOHHHH from the little darlings, and they rush to get started as I unload my packmule assortment of bags I carry in each morning and the day gets started without much ado.  I thank the specialist, and off we run.  We have things to learn, thank-you-very-much.

Fifteen minutes into our morning work, my principal steps in. (Can I take back my earlier pronouncement of AWESOME, please?) She was, in fact, in my room earlier, and the kids told her all about the things we are working on, and oh, by the way, when you have a second could you please email me with a time we could meet today?  And then she was gone.

No "we must chat about your kick-butt teaching strategies" or "I can't believe you left your class hanging and lets discuss how irresponsible you are".  Just -- email me, goodbye.

Thankfully, the meeting was not a scolding for my idiocy, but a necessary discussion of things to come.  Thankfully, the rest of my day was fairly easy.  And most of all, thankfully, my amazing husband showed up at 1:00, handed me my rings that we had send off to the jeweler to have soldered together, and asked for my keys, as he was taking the truck to be inspected.  He hugged me, talked to my class, gave me his big "I love you" smile, and he was gone.

And just like always, I felt immediately better.  How is it that just being in the presence of one person can have such a calming effect on me?  As nice as it would be for me to learn some of my own self-calming techniques, if I could bottle what he does to me, I would be a freaking billionaire.

I ended my evening by taking some dinner to my friend in the hospital with her son, calling my other friend that had surgery today and making sure she was well taken care of, calling my mom and telling her about the coin drive I organized for the relief fund to Haiti, and soaking in a hot bath.

So all in all?  Not a bad day.  Not bad at all.  Sometimes, in the climax of all the turmoil that surrounds me, when I am freaking smooth out, as I am prone to do, I really need to just take a step back and remember how blessed I am.  My children are healthy, my husband is amazing, my class is growing daily, and I am much stronger than I give myself credit for.

And with that, I believe sleep is in order.  Must remember to set my alarm clock...

1.20.2010

Not My Best Moment

Yesterday, I drove through a roadblock.

I wish this were a beautiful or simply witty analogy for a major milestone of my growth, reflecting the majesty of my awesome spiritual/emotional/blahblahblah progress.

Sadly, it is what it is.  I. Drove. Through. A. Road. Block.

But in my defense?  It was a really horrible day!  The evidence speaks for itself:

  1. I woke up late.  I refused to tear my lazy butt out of bed, because I don't seem to think I need to go to sleep until after midnight.  This caused me to flood the house in a wake of chaos and frustration, driven by my own self-loathing brain rattling cry of, "Way to go, Ms. Responsibility.  Even your CHILDREN were ready to go before you.  Like you couldn't have forced yourself out of bed 10 minutes earlier?  What kind of mom are you?"
  2. Therefore, I left my breakfast on the kitchen counter, which I had stayed up til midnight lovingly baking for myself the night before (yes, I can lovingly bake things for myself!).  My delicious and nutritious egg & spinach muffins were most certainly devoured by my giant horse of a chocolate lab within minutes of my truck backing out of the driveway. Stupid, mouth-breathing, hairy beast.
  3. On the way to drop the boys off, I frantically began a mad search for my classroom key, which is always --yes, always, I don't make mistakes, duh-- sitting in the center console of the truck.  No keys.  Nokeys.nokeys.nokeys, and this topped off by items 1 and 2, threw me into a panic.  I was already late, so by the time I got to school, there would probably be kids waiting at my door, which AWESOMELY, I would be unable to open.  Splendid.
  4. Because my leadership abilities refuse to stay hidden, I am currently the team lead for my grade level.  I email all my happy teammates with important tidbits for the week, which, within minutes, is being replied to with the news that I am giving them bad information, and my plan for the week won't really work because, oh, in case you had forgotten Kelly, you are a moron.  Gotta love the self-talk that spirals downward until you are sitting in a pool of sticky black ink, praying for the last swell of oxygen to leave your sad, angry, little body.
  5. Prepped my kids for the writing test they would have to undergo the following day, which always makes me feel a little like a bloodsucking muckity-muck, because the way in which we force them to write seems to have the express ability to turn them all into one massive UniAuthor with several sucktopus tentacles waving about haphazardly as they die, ever so slowly.  I spend every day attempting to keep their inner-writer alive and not suck their creativity away.  Testing days are painful for me.  And them.  So by the end of the day, I'm on high-alert, red-flag, ABANDON SHIP OR DIE mode.  And I flee from the building just as fast as my feet can carry me.
Reader, you may be looking at this list thinking, "Really?  REALLY?  This is what got you all out of sorts?  When people are homeless and dying and don't have clean water and and and..."

To be honest, I think it, too.  Nonetheless.  Yes.  That is what had me all out of sorts.  Bite me.

So I pick up Dos, and we're chatting away and I'm trying to get home as fast as I can because a) if I don't get the chili cooking right now dammit, then we will all die, and b) Amanda Palmer is about to have a webcast, and since she is marrying my favourite author EVER, I figure I should know more about her.  I don't know.  It seemed important at the time.

The roads around the boy's school are currently torn to shreds with road construction, so I follow a detour sign onto a side street, which leads to a bloody roadblock with no freaking way out but to turn around, and no way to turn around due to all the damn cars lined up on both sides of the streets.  Also, as I am sitting there, staring angrily at the barricades, breathing deeply, two more cars pull up behind me.

I throw the truck into reverse, begin to back up, only to watch the driver of the SUV behind me stare vacantly in my direction, and stay put.  I slam on the brake.  I stare, seeing nothing.  I sigh.  I look at Dos.  He looks at me.  I stare some more, watching cars drive down the road in the direction I need to go, on the other side of the barricades.

I throw the truck into drive, drop an F-bomb in front of my child (MOM OF THE YEAR, HOLLA!), and weave through the barricades, a group of construction workers gaping wide-eyed at me, as I listen to the somewhat satisfying kathump-kathump-kathump of road blockades dying beneath my tires.

And then I went home.

And started my chili.

And watched Amanda Palmer.

And waited for the police to show up at my door, arresting me for things like civil misconduct and property destruction and public display of moronic behavior.

Thankfully, I think the only jail time I'll be doing is the guilt-infused cell I seem to keep myself locked in.  I wonder which is worse: imprisoned behind metal bars, or locked in behind years of self-amassed guilt? At least when your jail sentence is over, the gates open up and let you out.  With the guilt?  I've never managed to find the gate.