Still Looking for an Answer

Last week Raymond had a problem in the bathroom. He peed on another child.

I share bathrooms with the other afternoon kindergarten teacher and one of her students was lucky enough to get peed on. Raymond has been having some problems lately but even so I sincerely doubted that he had peed on another child on purpose.
There are two open stalls in the boys bathrooms. I maintained to the other teacher that if someone was in my stall and playing around I would have peed on them as well. (Would've been a little harder for me.) We also wondered if they weren't sharing the toilet. Anyways, I did share the story with Raymond's father, laughed about it with Bonnie and decided we needed a "first book" for this year. Bonnie has been teaching school for 10 years and she says she has never had so many "firsts." Mind you, most are not the firsts you want to be associated with. I was the first to have a kindergartner suspended.....in the school's history. (He hit the principal.) The good times just keep rolling!

This week one of my students came out of the bathroom and reported that Raymond peed on the floor. I waited for a personal moment with him and asked why he did that. Raymond's disturbing response was "I do that every time." Teaching is certainly not limited to curriculum here in kindergarten. We are the lucky ones that get to expound on most every subject. Including toilet etiquette. Again I shared the story with his father. I was not prepared for the response.

"Yea, when Raymond pooped in the cat litter box last week I asked him why he did it and he said "I thought it would be fun.""

What is there to say to that?

It's Been an Emotional Day and This is Just the Half of It

Today I feel a bit like Scarlett O'Hara. I wish it was for one of the better scenes of the book. Remember the scene when she tells Rhett that she is afraid that she is going to hell? I can't even remember why she thinks that. Had one of her husbands just died? Yes, I think it must have been Frank Kennedy. She came down to the parlor to talk to Rhett and actually looked a little peaked. But it had nothing to do with grief for the bereaved. She was frightened for herself that she was going to hell.

Well, I am frightened for myself that I cannot be nice. And that may in actuality send me to hell. I am frightened of being nice. And I am frightened that this is bothering me because literally I am getting sick to my stomach about thinking of trying to be nice. It scares me that bad. Scarlett started crying hysterically about the whole thing and that is exactly what I want to do.

I have always thought that being interesting was where it was at but I honestly get all "brain dead" when it comes to having ........manners. That small talk that supposedly comes to easily to women is completely lost on me. I recognize it when I see it. I even appreciate it when it is done sincerely. But when the moment occurs that I should pop out with a compliment, a thank you, a hug or a "what can I do to help?" I freeze up. I am the queen of coming up with the ediquette soaked conversation lines after I am home. Sometimes I blame this phenomenon on anxiety. I am scared to show love. Sometimes at even more pitiful moments I question whether I have any love to give. It is not one and the same. I probably need to decide which it is. I might not be going to hell if it really is fear.

I am a social disgrace with other women and I am sick of it. However, my children are not very nice to each other and I am wondering if I am not showing them a good example of being nice. And that concerns me more. I do try with my children. I must admit that I feel very good about my work as a mother. I know I am trying. I know that I am working at it. I am proud of my efforts. I am proud that I am able to see my children as individuals and know they have to make their own decisions. Of course, I could do better. I don't say "I love you" every day. Not even to Bart. I do find myself acting like a military colonel sometimes and that leads me right back to the not being nice.

I was at a meeting tonight. A meeting about teaching. I do love teaching. I feel passion about teaching. My friend was there as well. She is just so open and loving. At the end of the meeting she was talking to everyone just schmoozing all comfortable. I just left. I apparently am so private that I had to bottle up all the good good feeling and not share it with anyone. I feel like that. I hold onto the love so tightly that I can't share it for fear of letting it out along with tears, uncontrollable laughter or throw up.

You know, the first boyfriend that I really liked was Dan. He came to take me on a walk around the lake holding hands. I looked into his eyes and promptly threw up. True story.

You know, sometimes in the throes of marital bliss I will just start laughing hysterically, uncontrollablly, completely not in a turn on sort of a way. True story.

You know, today I went to Cooper's parent teacher principal conference and I started crying because I just love that boy so much. And he has had such a rough year. Third teacher. True story. And truly embarrassing.

Enough of those true stories happen and you start to make sure all the emotions are tucked away as far as they can be. Including love and niceness. Because being the social leper that I am here on earth is worse than the prospect of sitting in hell with an interesting girl like Scarlett O'Hara.

Catch 22

This life is way too short to live in this winter setting for this long. I am seriously considering moving. However, the boys had fun ice fishing the other weekend. Bart took these pictures.





They went to the lake with Grandpa Nolan and Billy and caught about 70 fish or so. Apparently perch is a trash fish so you can't throw these fish back. You must bring them home and clean them. Yes, this winter like setting that I lived in afforded me the opportunity to gut and clean 70 fish last weekend. I cut off fish heads. I deboned fillets. I saw way too many fish eggs last weekend. It seriously took 3 hours to clean all the fish. I think I have done my quota for......my life. We were going to have a good steak dinner that night but after three hours in the kitchen I had had enough of kitchen duty. We had Apollo Burger for dinner that night. It took us 3 days to let the memories fade and then we had a delicious fish fry. I do love fish.

I still hate winter and cold and dark. But the gym is definitely helping. It is not helping with the eating all the chocolate in sight but it is helping the winter blues.

Teacher Hazing

Cooper started first grade this year. He didn't have a teacher and got along with substitutes and the reading specialist filling in for about 6 weeks. Finally we got a permanent teacher in the classroom. He has 21 kids in his class which is pretty normal to on the low side for Utah. I have spent a bit of time in his classroom. I have talked to his teacher quite a bit. I have no illusions about Cooper. He is a cute kid, he is a smart kid but he is a handful. He is a stereotypical youngest child. He has no respect for authority because he has had so many figures of authority try and assert themselves on his young self. He has not only his mother and father but all the older brother and sisters. Unfortunately they are not good authority figures and do not use the power correctly and that lets the youngest child learn to just ignore the power. That bleeds into other authority figures such as teachers and grandparents as well. It is a problem. It has become a bigger problem to me as I look at him through the eyes of a teacher. I have several students exactly like him and they create havoc in my class. I cringe to think it is my kid doing that to another teacher.
When you are a teacher the principal comes by, sits in and evaluates a lesson 4 times a semester. We call it JPAS. I was talking to Cooper's teacher the other day and she was expressing worry about her evaluation. She has a difficult class and has been graded low in the area of classroom management. (children behaving) I asked her if she wanted me to keep Cooper home for that day of the evaluation. It was sortof a joke and sortof serious.
I told my colleague about the conversation and she thought it was so funny that she shared it with my principal who then shared it with the whole staff at staff meeting. I feel really part of the whole teacher community now that I have had my perspective broadened, my sympathy increased and my personal experiences used as fodder for a staff meeting.