*****Consider this your This is a Whiny Diatribe warning*****
*****I’m serious. You might consider going to get yourself some cheese should you choose to read it.*******
****Proceed at your own risk.******
*****Don’t say I didn’t warn you.*****
As I told you all before, I am (very happy to be) moving to Tony’s school (Arnold) in the fall. When I interviewed in March, I was told that I would be teaching 6th grade reading and it would be either on-level and dyslexia or on-level and upper-level. At the end of the school year, I was told that I needed to get my GT certification to teach the upper-level kids since the dyslexia teacher did not get her transfer and would be at Arnold again next year.
The first week of summer vacation, I dug the house out from under the load of garbage that had fallen upon it during the final days of school. The second week of summer vacation, I alternated GT workshop days with VBS workshop days in an attempt to hold several irons in the fire simultaneously, AND, because I am what Joshilyn Jackson calls “a good dog.” I do what I say I will do, AND I normally do what I am asked to do. I SAID I would do two VBS workshops, and I was ASKED to get my GT certification. Therefore, it was done.
We had a wonderful time in Galveston until Wednesday afternoon when we received the news about Malachi. We still had a wonderful time after that, but it was only because I never let thoughts of Kerri and her blond-haired, blue-eyed boy slip into the forefront of my mind. . .especially since my own blond-haired, blue-eyed boy was running in the waves and digging in the sand and playing putt-putt golf for all he was worth, so that all hit a little too close to home. It still does, and in 32 minutes I have to go to one of the saddest events of my life thus far.
So imagine my chagrine when I checked my e-mail last night at 10:30 after having stopped at the church building on the way home from Galveston (Tony and the kids stayed in the car) for visitation with Malachi’s family to open my e-mail and get a message telling me that I would NOW be teaching 3 sections of 6th on-level reading and 2 sections of 8th grade Reading workshops(struggling readers who have failed the TAKS three or more times since 3rd grade). IN addition to that news, not only will I be teaching 8th reading workshop (which I’ve never taught and which has no curriculum written for it), but I will teach them for only one semester and in January I will receive two sections of kids from the New Arrival Center (NAC). The NAC is where kids go when they enter our district straight from their country of origin. They are tested on their language abilities and if they can speak enough English, they are sent to their neighborhood school to enter ESL classes. If they CANNOT speak enough English, they go to the NAC–which is now me beginning in January–to learn to speak English and read.
I am not ESL certified.
And although I am sure that I am CAPABLE of teaching 8th reading, and I’m also sure that the NAC kids are perfectly lovely, this is not what I signed up for. Nor was I told it was even listed in the fine print.
I have reminded myself of all sorts of things in light of this news. . .after I pitched a hissy fit and cried. I have two children who are ALIVE. I have a husband who loves me. I have a job. I have good health. I have good friends. I have a whole lot of other wonderful stuff. . .but that was just the rancid icing on top of the moldy emotional cake that had been the last three days.
It was enough. I was spent.
I could not initially sleep, so I watched M*A*S*H (never do I ever get tired of M*A*S*H re-runs), then I played computer solitaire for two hours. This morning I got up, got the kids some breakfast, unpacked my toiletry bag from Galveston, then went back to bed. . .where I stayed until 12:30.
For the first time in my life, I actually “took to bed.” I cannot say that I’ve ever done that before. I will normally read, or eat, or watch t.v., or talk on the phone, or walk, or clean. And I love my naps, but never have I said, “Okay. That is it. I cannot do this right now. I’m going to bed.”
Today I did.
My sweet husband took me to lunch since he knows the enormity of what I have to grasp over the shambles of my summer. I have to figure out how to teach two things I’ve never taught before (with no one else teaching the same subjects to plan with) along with going to a new school on a new team blah, blah, blah.
It’s a bit much. But after we ate lunch, Tony went to get “food” for the snakes, and I saw that Miss Potter has come out on DVD. So I had him run me by Blockbuster where I promptly rented it AND the Holiday (even though I don’t particularly care for Renee Zellweger, Jude Law, Cameron Diaz, OR Jack Black–and boy did he luck out ending up with Kate Winslett as a love interest in the movie) but all of them said things like, “romantic. . .up-lifting. . .inspiring. . .comedy. . .hilarious. . .”
I am blessed beyond belief, but right now while my spirit is trying to come to terms with several things that have been thrown my way, my earthly self needs some hilarious, up-lifing, inspiring, romantic, comedy, brainless entertainment. Which will commence upon my return home.
I’m off. . .I’ll give you movie reviews post-haste.