Around my house we’re getting used to the onset of the new school year. For as long as I have remembered, it has meant coordinating school supply, clothing and activity purchases and making sure everyone had what they needed. This week it means keeping everyone calm, exercising, eating as healthy as we can, and integrating the work we have been doing all Summer into the work that is beginning now. This is not what I would wish for us, but I am completely aware that it could be much, much worse.
My oldest son will be graduating high school next Spring. THATS unbelievable. As long as we have done everything we can to prepare him, I feel I will be completely ready to let him step forward into this new phase of his life. I’ve had a few ugly cries at the prospect of him leaving home and me letting go, but I understand that he can’t remain a child forever. Memories of the cute kid who loved to get an ice cream cone are often tempered with the reality that he eats like a
mountain man teenaged boy. I still would not mind him living in the house down the street (or next door) when he grows up. 🙂
Monday is Labor Day, which means Summer will be done. It seems like it is over quickly, but I got a lot accomplished so I can’t really complain. This Fall, I’m going to be dealing with senior stuff and college prep stuff and new edgy high schooler stuff (did I mention that when we go out now, he doesn’t want to walk with us – he’s Mr. Indpendently Edgy now – sigh). Then there are the third and fourth graders. I definitely had better step up my workouts. I will need them.
This post is in response to a Plinky prompt that asked what my worst classroom experience was. Enjoy.
When I was in elementary school, I had a music teacher who, I felt, liked everyone in the class except me. She called on everyone except me. I kept track and she actually called on every student in the class except for me. I thought maybe I needed to work harder to get her attention. So I practiced and practiced and practiced and still never got called on. One day, after I was discouraged and tired of feeling that way, I asked her why she ignored me. She told me that she resented the fact that I asked the question and got all puffed up. I almost felt bad for asking at the time, except I kept track of everyone she had called on for weeks and she called on everybody but me. The next time I had an altercation with a teacher like that I was in college and I dropped his class the day it happened. Maybe I should thank her for helping me determine what kind of treatment I would not tolerate in a classroom setting or anywhere else.