At the end of the first week of what will probably be the way things are for the foreseeable future. I understand that is a long rambly word weasel. (There are so many undiscovered weasel species)
Let me explain. I worked all three jobs this week and on one day, all three. Exciting and terrifying, but I did it. Before I leap in the air with glee and pride. I did start to flag a bit yesterday as my exhaustion started to give way to some kind of head cold thing. I am trying to fight it back with a number of OTC meds and fluids and resting when I can. I don’t want to wind up with walking pneumonia. ( the result of ignoring a summer cold for weeks until it got so bad that I was forced to sleep around the clock until I recovered. That is not nearly as fun as it sounds and there is NO WAY that I can take that kind of time off now.)
I learned so many things this week. I learned that I still have my love of teaching and I really want to have a class to call my own instead of following the migratory pattern of teachers looking to use their sick/personal days before they use them. (I do find it ironic that my grandparents made so many sacrifices to keep their descendants from migrant work and after years of their struggle and my years of college, I am now an educational migrant worker.)
But the day of sub training wasn’t nearly as soul robbing as I thought it would be. There was a really cute guy in my group. Probably too young for me, but exactly my type (Tall, moderately scruffy, blue eyes, artistic bent and laughs at my tangential comments) I discovered he has a girlfriend when Ms-too-good-to-work-in-Special-Ed from the other workshop butted into our conversation. Oh, well.
There was a girl (not woman, girl) who came to the sub workshop in a short skirt (Short enough to rise to mid-thigh when she sits) tights and hoochie boots. She also had a tiny gold hoop in her nose. I have no problem with any of these things, but I’m pretty sure they don’t have any place in any classroom. She verbally protested when one young man said that he didn’t think high heels were proper sub attire. She was mad because, “that’s such a guy thing to say”
No princess, that’s a fellow teacher trying to offer some advice to a clueless person who is either going to break a shoe sprinting around the gym when she gets moved from one assignment to another without warning, or going to fall and crush a child in an elementary school assignment, or even more probable, going to lose the respect of whole classes of high school and middle school students. The girls will hate and judge because of the skirt ant the boots. The boys will ogle and be disruptive. She has no clue.
There were only two people in the entire workshop I wanted to punch. Not a bad day.
I learned a lot on my assignment yesterday (Ninth grade English at an inner city school) but my Dayquil just wore off. I will post that adventure later.