I am a cry baby

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OMG I love him…I don’t know him but just look at him!!!Photo credit: migasun)

I was out visiting last night and consumed 3 shots of espresso. Probably not the smartest thing I have ever done. I was wide awake until close to two. Up again at six thirty. Am I tired? YOU BETCHA! Am I emotional? I cried openly in class today…you tell me.

Caffeine gives me energy – false energy – but I feel pumped none the less. I washed floors, I got things in order for a trip I’m taking and I checked my class assignments. My head blew off. I did very well and suddenly felt like my impending holiday would be super relaxing and fun….then I couldn’t sleep and my act fell apart. I no longer felt in control of my situation…that sucks.

The nice thing about being awake all night is I could email with my friend Bokkie in South Africa. She is taking Early Childhood Courses and that is my field so I helped out a bit. I laid in the dark letting my mind go places it shouldn’t. I was doing so great with the emotional thing…this was just a bump in the road. I needed to let it wash over me.

In the morning I needed coffee like you wouldn’t believe…yes the irony was not lost on me. My niece and favorite barista was on duty this morning and she makes a damn fine latte. It helped tremendously. I did crave chocolate all day – but resisted. I am in control except for the crying part….

I need to clarify one thing. The group of students I have this year is likely the best group I have ever had. I mean EVER! I have been doing this since 1988. 24 years of this kookiness and THIS IS THE BEST CLASS EVER! I heart them! They are 4 and 5 and will be fantastic humans. Of course they are a work in progress and are not perfect. For example, the gal I consider to be the kindest with the most potential turns out to be a playdough hoarder with a mean streak. It wasn’t pretty. I caught her at it and declared my disappointment. To her credit she felt remorse – not a usual response from 4 and 5 year olds. Then….the sobs started. She cried like I ripped her heart out of her chest with my bare hands. I am a softy when it comes to broken hearts, so I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry it out. Wr eventually moved to the couch because she was so distraught. 45 minutes later, we were finally able to reach a point where we could calmly discuss the situation, make up and be friends. Her biggest worry was she let me down. I know that feeling. Disappointing my dad was the worst! It stuck with me forever, I can still see the look in his eyes…ug… Yes I cried a bit when she told me that. Only because I was sleep deprived…I am not a baby – you are. No, YOU ARE.

Anyways…

The afternoon brought another heart braking incident. I am getting too old for this.

The final event shattered me. My favorite – yes I have a favorite. All teachers do, they just won’t admit it. Fairness above all else. Anyway, we were doing pet shop yoga poses and my favorite was touching the girl’s hair who was next to him. He doesn’t speak – ever. He has a couple of words he can use when it’s require, but he can communicate with gestures, kindness and expression. Did I mention he was my favorite? He has a HUGE crush on this little girl. She is kind and sweet and always has a smile for him. It was her turn to pick a partner, he held up his hand and she walked right by him and picked a girl. I watched his heart break right before my eyes. I think I could hear it too. The deadness in his eyes was obvious. I cried and covered my face to shield me from the naked pain on his little face. I wanted to run up to him and say, “It’s okay – I love you!!!!” Of course I know from experience that when the one you love doesn’t love you back, there is nothing more painful in the whole world. You want to die right then and there. You can actually feel your heart ripping from the inside of your chest and feel it scrape around your chest cavity and end up in your digestive track where the bile eats away at it until you bleed internally and die. Then all that is left is a soulless life form wandering around until that magical day when all is better once again. Of course you think it will never happen and you beg and plead with the love of your life to take you back in that pathetic embarrassing way that makes you cringe every time you look back on it.

I could see it all in his face. He stood in line, tried not to cry and became emotionless. Four years old and suffered his first major heart break. His soulless life form drifted to the snack table where he could not eat. Food tasted like sawdust in his mouth. The agony of the situation was SHE sat at his snack table. She was across from his little body, not talking because she too is unable to speak much – only she speaks another language – English is not easy yet for her. She communicates by smiling and lighting up the world – but HE couldn’t look at her, the pain was too raw. I didn’t blame him. I understood. The best thing I could do for him was take him away to a place he had never played before. He was able to move on and smile once again.

Obviously this was a sad and painful day. I look forward to next year with the hope that this is my last year in the classroom. I love my kids but chances are I will never have a year like this one again. With my luck it will be like last years group and that is enough for me to work at Tim Horton’s and serve donuts. Clearly the caffeine has done damage to my heart and soul. I need a proper sleep and become cold hearted again and resist the sweetness that can envelop me.

It’s days like this one when I wonder how am I going to make it? The pain is too deep to let it go. I think of that little face with the broken heart visible in his eyes and I hurt like it just happened to me. Oh to be 3 again and be self centered an unaware of others. being 4 is too complicated. Being 44 isn’t much better.

Bring on the happy place, a full nights sleep and a dole whip…and maybe Tarzan walking around in his loin cloth…its all good.

The Double Dog Dare

There is a time honored tradition, a rite of passage for Canadian Kids. It ranks up there with with skating on a pond for the first time, building a snow-fort or playing street hockey. For smart kids, it only happens once. Those kids who are less fortunate…well…it can be an annual school yard tradition as it was for my brother and sister. They were blessed with a sister who could talk them into anything…

And I did just that.

You may have seen it in film and TV and think it just isn’t possible, well I assure you it is. Not only is it possible, pride is at stake. The dreaded “Double Dog Dare” taunts most children into attempting this fate because no wants want to be labeled a “chicken” or WORSE a Leafs fan.

Years ago I had a friend who let me practice this dirty deed on her brother. He had a penchant for black licorice. I told him one frosty winter morning before school, the black wrought iron railing that led to his front door tasted like licorice. What do you suppose he did with that knowledge? Licked it of course. The number one rule for Canadian winters is NEVER EVER lick metal.

You would think that would be common sense. Clearly this is a skill lacking in Canadian youth. My friend’s brother licked the railing. The tongue stuck hard and fast to the railing.

If you find yourself with your tongue stuck to a metal flag pole, the first instinct is to rip your tongue from the metal it is attached too. This is not an optimum experience. Having your taste buds torn from your tongue has it’s draw backs, the first being the amount of blood loss. The second being starvation for the next few days while it heals. The third is the sheer pain of it. I have had many painful experiences, two of them being a mother, but the pain of ripping your tongue from a flag pole is one of the most excruciating experiences of my life. (Why did I do it? I was paid $5. Was it wort it? Hell to the Yeah!)

The alternative is to wait for an adult to come by and pour liquid on your tongue. That is less painful, but your friends have left you for dead. You likely have to go to the bathroom or a blizzard is on its way. Neither of those options are pleasant either.

Teaching in a school is always fun around this time of year. A fellow teacher explained the reason for coffee so eloquently. For all those parents who think teachers drink coffee while on recess supervision for the joy of it, think again. We use the liquid to free your child from the monkey bars, or slide. Either your child was double dogged dared or the genetic pool is shallow at your house. Whatever the reason, give us more coffee for Christmas…not mugs…just saying.

 

 

Time Waits for No One

Tic Tic Tic…

…Christmas Tree is going up without me….

Tic Tic Tic

I despise University at this moment….

Tic Tic Tic….

…so tired just need more sleep…

Tic Tic Tic…

…its Saturday, why is the alarm going off…

Tic Tic Tic…

…CRAP! Last day of swim lessons, can’t miss them…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Celebration! 10 levels of hard work achieved!

Tic Tic Tic…

…Finish this last paper…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Phone rings… ignore it…love hearing from this friend…answer it…can’t say what I need too…not enough time…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Finish this damn paper…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Promised I would be there…

Tic Tic Tic…

…2 glasses of wine…want the whole bottle…too responsible…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Finish this DAMN paper…

Tic Tic Tic….

…Waiting for Teenager to come home…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Off to bed…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Sleep… coma… stress is getting to me…

Tic Tic Tic…

…Have to get up…hard to wake from coma…

Tic Tic Tic…

…GOD DAMN PAPER…

Tic Tic Tic….

…need a box to put feelings, there is too many to cope with…

Tic Tic Tic…

Living life or consumed by obligations?

Tic Tic Tic…