Hi, first-year teacher!

About this time every year I get all nostalgic.  Maybe it's the rainbow of colors out my window due to the leaves changing.  Maybe it's the cooler temperatures reminding me it won't be hot and humid and nasty forever.  But probably it's because I remember how I felt about this time 5 years ago when I had just finished my first quarter of my first year of teaching. I read this article last week and felt prompted to give my two cents to first-year teachers.  So whether you are a first-year teacher knee-deep neck-deep in all things school or you are a veteran teacher feeling like you're on the verge of becoming cynical and crotchety, my hope is that you feel encouraged after reading this.

I can split my first year of teaching into 4 distinct time frames:
1st quarter: You guys, I literally had no idea what was going on.  Ever.  I arrived at work by 6:45 every morning and stayed until at least 5 or 5:30, but looking back, I have no clue how I was even spending my time.  I rested Friday night and Saturday, but after lunch on Sunday, the rest of my day was spent doing school stuff (oh, and crying...always lots of crying).  My stellar mentor teacher shared her entire drive of files with me just to give me a head start and I had a kind freshman teacher who gave me her weekly plans every single week since I DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE how to lesson plan.  It's like I hadn't just spent five years (yes, 5) preparing to be a teacher. I pulled my hair in front of the students, cried most days on my way home, and regularly asked my worst class dumb questions like, "Kids, what am I doing wrong? Why are you treating me this way?"  It was rough.

2nd quarter:  I was well into my third or fourth unit with both my classes, so I was beginning to develop a rhythm.  A friend and I started taking a yoga class twice a week which enabled me to not only leave before the sun set every day, but also provided me a time to literally just breathe.  Oh, I should also mention, I still didn't like what I was doing, ha. Nope, not at all.  I dreaded going to work every day and prayed all through December that we would get a snow day (spoiler alert - didn't happen).

(Not feeling encouraged? It gets better, promise).

3rd quarter:  While I still didn't enjoy going to work, I at least was beginning to feel a bit more confident.  I didn't have a 6th hour from hell any longer and the regularity of colleagues asking for my hall pass had slowed down (I teach at a large school, so being confused for a student was a common occurrence).  We had 5 snow days this quarter (of course I would remember that...I was praying for 25 snow days).

4th quarter: At this point, summer was within reach and all I had to do was knuckle down and make it.  I didn't yell at my students near as much (because, let's face it, when is that ever effective?!). I definitely found a rhythm to my everyday.  But mostly, I knew that I only had to survive a few more months before a clean slate.

Phew, you made it.  Looking back, I can laugh about it, but, I see you, first-teacher teacher, crying every day.  And I get that it's not funny, yet.

I can honestly say that I love my job now.  I really do.  But I could not have said that during my first four years.

After two years in the general English classroom, I decided, for a myriad of reasons, that gen ed English was not my happy place.  Not by a long-shot.  I wasn't ready to throw in the education towel, so I hopped over to special education.  And that, my friends, still wasn't my happy place for two years.  It was better, but not "I LOVE MY JOB. EVERYONE QUIT WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND JOIN ME" awesome. It was just fine for two years.

Let's talk about what shifted.

I had a baby and I TOOK A CHILL PILL (figuratively and literally, but we don't need to talk about the literally, ha - check out this post to understand why).

Now, this isn't me saying, "Go have a baby; it'll fix everything!"  Stop that. Don't be silly.  It won't fix everything.

Friends, it's all about perspective.

What is the hardest part about your job right now?  My answer to that question early on was that I was overwhelmed with such large classes and I felt like I wasn't meeting individual needs.  When I switched to special education, my answer was that I was bored.  I fixed that by changing how I taught.  It helped immensely to have a new curriculum handed to us - nothing boring about teaching something brand new every day!

So, sweet first-year teacher - what IS the hardest part about your job? Answer that question and then try to fix it.  Now, impressionable friend, do not, I repeat, DO NOT go down the rabbit-trail of "well if the administration would just do this" or "if my students were just different" or "if I didn't have to teach this."  Yada, yada.  There are a million things we don't have control of (that has nothing to do with teaching, but has everything to do with LIFE).  We can't fix a bazillion of our issues, but we can control ourselves.

You probably have lots of things bothering you as a first-year teacher (and that's okay!).  Be bothered - it's what makes you passionate!  But don't be bothered to the point that you burn out.  Ask for stinkin help.  You surely have a colleague down the hall a call or email away from handing you everything you could possibly need to plan the next quarter's worth of lessons.  Just ask.  We're teachers.  We love teaching. :)

This is getting all mumbly jumbly.  Gah, I just love you so much and think you're awesome and don't want you to quit just because you don't have it all figured out.  I'm six years in and I still have days I don't know what I'm going (I'm guessing teachers who have taught for much longer would say the same). We just have more teaching tools in our toolbox.  I guarantee you're adding to your toolbox every single day.  And the first day you get the chance to pull from that toolbox in a spur of the moment lesson will be the best day ever.  Because it will mean you're gonna make it.

Fight through this first year.  Every day might be a struggle, but you'll make it.  And you'll come out even stronger.  And no matter how much you think you're jacking up these kids, just remember: kids are crazy resilient.  They'll come out fine.  I promise it's going to be okay.

PS - if you seriously are struggling with the ins and outs of every day, please reach out to me if you don't feel like you have anyone.  I have a crap-ton of resources that can be modified to whatever level you kids are.  I got your back, friend.

An Update, of Sorts

Jobs are funny, aren't they?  I mean, we need them to financially take care of our people.  And, let's face it, we need them to give us something to do...whether IN or OUT of the home.  In a perfect world, we would all have a job we love that enables us to be financially set AND personally satisfied.  The trouble is that our world isn't perfect.

Almost a year ago I went back to work after an exhausting maternity leave.  I was ready to return to work only because I needed consistency.  I thrive in routine.  Being at home all day every day with a newborn whose strength was not daytime napping had taken its toll on me.  I needed a good ol' dose of 7 class periods with a bell every 47 minutes informing me to move to the next class.  Ahhh, bliss.  You think I joke.  I don't.  Consistency and cookies are my favorite.  I love them equally.  And I love me some cookies.

So back to school I went.  With my handy-dandy breast pump.

About 6 weeks after my return, I was so exhausted from the daily duties that go along with teaching full-time and wifing full-time and mommying full-time.  I was spent.  So Daniel and I did some number-crunching and we realized that we could make some personal budget cuts and I could look for something part-time.  My first and last stop in my job search was to talk to my principal (my supervisor).  I was doubtful that what I would ask for would work, but I knew I would never know unless I asked.

I spelled it out to him: I'm tired. I'm sucking at life at home and I'm sucking at life at school.  I want to keep teaching but I also want to be at home with my sweet Bennett.  I want to work mornings and be a part-time employee.

And you know what?  After months of conversations, he was able to grant my request.  This year my contract is from 7:30-11:30 Monday through Friday (I teach high school special education).  And it's so dreamy.

More than any other time in my life, I feel like I'm doing exactly what I need to be doing.  I love my "get paid" job.  I love high schoolers.  Goodness, they are special people.  And I love spending half my day with them.  And I adore my "don't get paid" job.  Toddler Bennett is a special little boy, and I'm thrilled and honored to spend the better part of my day with him.

Some of you are able to work full-time and still love your life.  I was not.  At least not in this season of my life.  Our phenomenal babysitter would send us pictures of Bennett at the zoo, Bennett at a playground, Bennett on a walk.  And while one part of my heart would rejoice that he was being taken care of so well, the other part would break that someone else was getting to see him experience all the fun things that go with being a kid. (Side note: I am forever grateful for our sitter and the love she gave our B.  I just wanted to give him daytime love, too!)

To full-time working mommas:  I get you.  You are a rock-star.  You're doing the best thing for your family.  Be sure to give yourself lots of grace.

To part-time working mommas: I get you.  You are the bees knees.  You're doing the best thing for your family.  Work hard when you work so when you're at home, you can be at home.

To stay-at-home mommas: I get you (I was at home all summer with my boy).  Your job might not pay, but it is seriously tough stuff.  Do a baby-sitting swap with a friend.  You won't regret it.

What's the point of me telling you this?

Talk to your people and figure out what would be best for your family.

And then ask for it.  You never know unless you ask.  

Time is short.  Time is precious.  Figure out how you want to spend it.  And then do it.  

Post-Partum: My Story

Yep, I'm going there.  This is the post I so longed to read when I was neck-deep in post-partum emotions.  I just wanted to relate to SOMEONE.  To know that I wasn't alone.  To feel the camaraderie of other women who had experienced similar emotions and made it to the other side in one piece.  My life has generally been pretty drama-free.  Minimal painful seasons and few traumatic events.  So when baby Bennett was born, I was knocked down hard.  And didn't come up for a breath for 9 weeks and 2 days.

Since September 1 (the day Bennett decided life was going to be okay and the first day I felt like myself again), I've had lots of time to process those early weeks.  And I've come to many conclusions.  I think every woman has at least one part of childbearing that's challenging.  Getting pregnant was easy for me.  Being pregnant was so dreamy (until the last 4 weeks...but no one can honestly say the last 4 weeks are lovely).  Childbirth was even (don't shoot me) easy - I got me some drugz after 7 hours of pain that made me want to bite my fingers off and Bster entered the world 90 minutes later.  My body recovered nicely after he was born and I was feeling great after about a week.

But then. My emotions went berserk.  Nursing was legitimately the hardest thing I have ever done.  Harder than being the new kid in a class.  Harder than my first year of teaching.  Harder than any marital challenge.  It wasn't painful for me.  It was just hard.  I don't even have the words to describe how challenging it was for me.

People said we would get into a rhythm.  That eventually we would get the hang of it.  So I pressed on.

It's about to get real here.

My whole life I've struggled with not really feeling like I have any real strengths (that's another story for another day).  So I think I was desperate to be able to say, "I nursed my baby.  And I was good at it."  Oh sweet Heidi, I just want to stroke your hair as it falls out after giving life to a human and tell you that IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD IF NURSING DOESN'T WORK.  IT'S JUST NOT.  FORMULA EXISTS FOR A REASON.  USE IT.  IT'S NOT WORTH THE TEARS - FROM BENNETT OR FROM YOU!

In the first few weeks of Bennett's life, I cried all the time.  On my first day home alone with him, I remember sitting on the floor in front of his swing weeping while he slept peacefully.  Because I couldn't believe that I had this perfect little boy to care for.  And because I was terrified that something might happen to him someday and that I wouldn't be able to protect him for forever.  My heart was so heavy with love for this tiny human.  And it was overflowing in a way that I had never felt.

I chalked up my intense emotions to the ridiculous hormonal changes a woman goes through after childbirth.  I told myself it was going to be okay.  That I just needed to make it to 6 weeks and everything should go back to normal.  That I didn't need medication to help me feel like myself again.

When Bennett was 5 weeks old, our family of 3 went to a birthday party and I spent almost the whole time upstairs sobbing and unsuccessfully attempting to nurse my wailing infant.  Daniel had just returned from a week-long business trip and while I had held in my emotions while he was away, the floodgates were bursting and I couldn't make them stop.  I remember texting my bestie in Africa from the floor of that room saying that I was crying and I couldn't stop.  I thought things couldn't get any darker, but they were about to.
Seven weeks after Bennett was born, I asked one of my lifesavers to come over and snuggle B so I could pack for a family vacation to Colorado.  I was packing upstairs and just started crying.  And again, I couldn't stop.  By this point, I was accustomed to daily tears.  And I had tried everything - eating right, exercising, sleeping when baby slept (note to self: don't ever tell a new momma to sleep when baby sleeps...some babies don't sleep), reaching out to my incredible support system, praying every minute of every day.  And nothing was working.

I remember walking downstairs to my sweet sister and, through tears, saying, "I think something's wrong with me."  She ever so gently encouraged me to call my doctor.  So I did.  And left a message on the answering machine.  I was bawling as I left my message (which actually turned out to be great - the nurse called me back minutes later).   At my appointment the next day, I recounted the last few weeks and without even missing a beat, the doctor suggested that I might need some medication.  And I immediately took her up on her offer.

Prior to this moment, had anyone suggested taking medication for my emotions, I would have responded with any of the following:
I don't take medicine.
I don't need it.
I can handle this.
It will be okay.

Oh sweet new momma Heidi, there is so much you don't know.

About 10 days after beginning my meds, I was still a hot mess.  We had just returned from Colorado and Bennett hadn't gained any weight in a week.  Our pediatrician wanted to refer him to Children's Mercy in Kansas City to do some tests in an attempt to figure out what the problem was.  I sobbed uncontrollably after hanging up the phone with the nurse.  I remember taking Bennett upstairs and rocking him while I did the ugly cry and held him so close completely afraid that he would be taken from me.

Another one of my lifesavers came to visit two days later.  And I cried all day.  She watched as I tried, again unsuccessfully, to nurse my extremely fussy baby.  She loved on me.  She brought me food and encouraged me with all she had.  And I finally said out loud what I had been thinking for weeks:  I feel like I have lost my joy.  I'm not myself right now.  I'm at the end of my rope and at the bottom of a pit and like there is no way out.  Life is incredibly dark right now and I don't know what to do except cry.

The next day was a good day.  Bennett ate well and I thought we had turned a corner.

Then Sunday hit.  And Bennett, again, cried all day.  I skyped with my African bestie and sobbed while I told her I didn't know what to do.  That this is not what I had envisioned.  That the two things I was most afraid of pre-baby were post-partum depression and a fussy baby.  And I had both.

 From the rocker in the nursery, I texted a dozen of my praying friends and pleaded for them to intercede on my behalf.   My faithful brother called me immediately and gave me every encouraging word he had.  My in-town sister dropped what she was doing and came over to hold my sweet, fussy baby.  And daddyDan, again, made me laugh.  It was at this point that Daniel and I decided to change how Bennett ate.  We decided to try the bottle instead of nursing.  I knowwwwwwwwwww.  Why didn't we do that before?!  Because I'm stubborn.  Because I wanted to succeed at something.  Because I wanted to be what my baby needed.  And because I was so tired and so emotional and so unable to make rational decisions.

The next day, September 1, was the best day of 2014.  It was the day I decided that Bennett's well-being was more important than my stubbornness.  It was the day I finally realized that at Bennett's one-year birthday party, I'd rather be able to say, "My baby eats formula and is happy" than "I nursed him for a whole year and it was AWFUL."  I physically became a mom on June 27, but I think September 1 is the day I emotionally became a mom.  Bennett's needs trumped my stubbornness.

Bennett was a hard baby. For me.  I'm sure other moms would look at the first 9 weeks of his life and say that he wasn't anything compared to their challenging babes.  And that's okay.  Having a baby knocked me off my feet in the most intense way.  It made me rely on people more than I ever had before.  And I am so thankful for that.

Ladies who are pregnant, don't read this and be afraid.  Know that it will be hard.  (For some gals it isn't though!)  Don't hesitate to ask for help - whether that help is from your friends, family, or doctor.  As one of my colleagues told me, sometimes the only mantra worth repeating is: survive and advance.  And remember, it's going to be okay.

First-time mommas who are in the trenches of life with a newborn, know that you are so precious.  Ask people to bring you food (I asked my mom to make me a handful of freezer meals and she showed up a week later with 15 meals.  The best gift ever.).  Invest in a nice stroller if you don't have one.  The mall is a great place to walk when it's cold.

I feel like I should end this post with a shout-out to my ridiculous support system, but the list of people who loved on me is far too long.  Just know this, my gracious lifesavers, you mean more to me than could ever know.  Your prayers and words of encouragement got me through the darkest time of my life.  You rode the waves with me and for that I am eternally grateful.

I'm back to being myself, but an even better version, I think.  I love my life and I adore my little family.  Bennett brings Daniel and I joy every single day and I couldn't imagine life without him.  I'm still tired, and I hear that won't change any time soon, but I'm okay with that.  I'm still very type-A and still quite stubborn, but I'm slowly learning how to chill out.  And I love it.  God is unbelievably faithful in all things.  Jesus is my rock and I will forever cling to Him.

I'm an open-book, friends.  Don't hesitate to ask questions if you have them.  Ladies, if you are feeling any emotions related to post-partum, please reach out to me or to someone you trust.  I've totally got your back, girl.

Pregnancy Journal #5

Disclaimer:  I never thought I'd do another pregnancy journal with this pregnancy because I NEVER CONSIDERED BEING OVERDUE.  Shame on me.  Here I sit, 3 days overdue with no end in sight.  I'll admit, I'm being a bit melodramatic (figures, right?), but I truly never imagined that I would be going on an anniversary date with a basketball-sized belly.  When will I ever learn?  Ha, hot mess.  All the time. 

Here are some of the recent capers of baby C, #daddyDan, and giant mother:

Stranger Observations:  We ate at Chipotle Saturday night to celebrate one last evening without a tiny friend (hahahahahahahahaha, "one last night," hahahahahahahaha).  I went through the line and ordered my fave (flour tacos, chicken, a little white rice, corn salsa, pico, cheese, sour cream, guac on the side - now you know).  When I moved from where the high counter meets the low counter, one of the workers saw me and literally gasped, "Ahhhh!  I did NOT see that coming!"  As in, "Whoa, giant belly, did not expect that!!"  I about died.  Yet another reason baby C must exit the premises immediately.  It's striking fear into the hearts of strangers!

Exercise:  Weeeeelllllll, I try to do something active each day.  Sometimes that means running errands and attempting not to grunt too loudly when I enter and exit the car.  Other times that means convincing daddyDan to take me walking (last night our venue of choice was Lowe's).  Other times that means swimming at our local fitness club.  But let's be honest, I don't swim.  I stand.  Occasionally I bounce.  And sometimes I even walk laps.  Oh to be a fly on the wall in the office:  "There's that pregnant lady again.  I guess when a few days pass and we haven't seen her, we'll know she's not a giant anymore."  During one of my latest swimming sessions, I was pausing at one end of the lap lane before taking off on my sprint once more and one of the lifeguards came over to me and asked me to move from the lap lane if I wasn't going to use it.  I have no words.  But so many, MANY emotions including, but not limited to, anger, rage, and any emotion that a sailor with an excessive potty-mouth would experience.  Not pretty.

Contractions:  I swear I was in labor Friday night.  And then again Saturday night.  And then again Sunday night.  And then I gave up.

Friends:  We feel so engulfed by love.  Every day for the past week I've heard from someone out of the blue "just checking on me."  And it's so sweet.  My girlfriends have seriously rallied behind me, from taking me on walks to bringing me Sonic happy hour drinks (diet watermelon limeade, easy ice...now you know...I also wouldn't say no to mozzarella sticks) to sending me boxes of "get to the finish line" supplies to last-minute dinner invites to pool party invitations to quick phone-call check-ins to daily "here's what I'm doing today, feel free to join any of the aforementioned activities" to so many other loving things.  You gals are the best.  Seriously.  I believe I have all 5 love languages as my top love language (Danz thinks this makes me high-maintenance...I think it makes me easy to please, anywho), but my number one is definitely "words of affirmation," and let me tell you, I am feeling might affirmed.  So a huge heartfelt thanks to all of you who have reached out.  Your words have meant the world and have legitimately kept me from going insane. 

Grateful:  You all know I'm sarcastic and snarky and full of ridiculous things.  But I really am so thankful for this journey of carrying a wee one.  I'm thankful my body has proven to be a decent home for a tiny human to grow and flourish.  And the fact that I can absolutely not wait until babe arrives is truly a testament to God's grace and provision and timing.  You see, up until about a month ago, I was so full of fear that I couldn't even think about my due date or what would happen once babe actually arrived.  You may or may not know that I'm a teacher.  And I am a processor and love to spend lots of time reflecting on life (I'm a bit of an extroverted introvert).   Historically, summer has meant house projects, visiting people I love, and resting.  This summer, so far, I've completed zero house projects (with exception to finishing the nursery, of course) and I have spent minimal time traveling to visit people (because, as I mentioned in a previous post, car rides are of the devil....oh, and because baby was supposed to come early).  But oh have I rested.  And processed.  And reflected.  And what a gift it has been.  I can't count the numbers of hours I've spent sitting on our porch swing or in our nursery just thinking.  I know, I know, "enjoy it now because it will never be the same."  I get it.  And I'm ready.  I'm ready for a new normal and a new routine.  I'm ready for sleepless nights.  I'm ready to watch daddyDan be daddyDan.  I'm ready for endless loads of laundry and for losing tiny socks in the wash.  I'm ready for a messy house due to a human the size of my thigh.  I'm ready for spontaneity to be a bit more challenging.  I'm ready for playdates with other tiny humans and their mommas.  And I'm ready for my heart to explode with love for someone I've never met.  It's time, baby C.  We're ready for you.  

Pregnancy Journal #4

Officially two weeks from due date!  And baby C is making me very aware of that.  Constant kicks, constant punching of my bladder, and constant giant kankles.  Babe is bored and ready to make a dramatic appearance, I'm sure.  It's been a pretty dreamy 38 weeks, but daddyDan and I are getting anxious to meet the little one who requires so much ice cream, fruit, and sour candy.  

Best stranger or student quotes:

• Over-enthusiastic student:  "Mrs. Carlson, awwwwwww, you look so lovely.  You gonna go all-natural when you give birth?"
• Sonic car-hop (said when I was only 32 weeks pregz):  "Oooooooooo girl, that baby coming any day now, right?!"  "Nope.  Still have 2 months."  "NOOOOOO!  That is one BIG baby!"  

Sleeping:  These days I wake up at least 3 times a night.  Actually, that's a bit of a lie.  I've been waking up at least 3 times a night ever since December.  What has changed is now when I wake up, my body feels like I've just run a marathon.  I literally have to tell myself:  "Self, you have been SLEEPING.  You did not just do P90X nor did you participate in bikram yoga.  You literally make no sense right now."  I'm also excessively sweaty at night.  I've had two fans pointed directly at me and no covers while #daddyDan freezes beside me.

Getting "checked":  You all know I like to keep these posts G-rated, but I must give you the following information.  At 35 or 36 weeks, pregoz have the option to get "checked" by the doctor/midwife to see if dilation has occurred.  I dodged that bullet at 35 weeks but was not given the option at 36 weeks.  I won't name any names, but someone (whose name rhymes with Hammy) told me not to worry and that getting "checked" is less invasive than a yearly physical.  LIES.  ALL LIES.  Let's just say I wanted to die and was seeing stars afterward.  Sooooo at my 37 week appointment when the midwife asked if I'd like to be checked, I kindly declined.  Um, I'd rather you not jam your arm inside me up to your elbow.  No thanks, walking on lava sounds much better right now.   Mmkay, see you next week WHEN I WON'T HAVE A CHOICE (Lord, grant me the serenity...).

Food:  Danz works with a gal who is about 6 weeks behind me in her pregnancy.  About two weeks ago, she mentioned to him that she can no longer eat full meals because the baby is taking up too much room.  Quoth daddyDan:  "Hmm, interesting.  Heidi hasn't hit that point in her pregnancy."  TRUTH.  Baby has, in no way, diminished my ability to shovel any amount of food into my stomach.  Not sure if I should be concerned or just really proud of this fact.  I aim to impress, people.

Car rides:  ARE OF THE DEVIL.  There is nothing I loathe more than sitting in a car at this stage of my pregnancy.  Except maybe getting "checked" (see above).   End of story.

Water breakage precaution:  daddyDan is seriously concerned about my water breaking anywhere that would require clean-up.  He's so concerned, in fact, that I must sit on a towel while driving and I'm probably about a week from being required to sit on a towel on our couch.  We do have an awesome couch, so I'll humor him. 

Birthing class:  I had Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the whole class.  I think baby C was just warming up.  So bizarre. Daniel and I also laughed 56% more than everyone else combined.  Not because we think labor and delivery is hilarious, but because there were so many words and images that we could either choose to cry about in anticipation of or laugh because, one way or another, this baby is coming out of me. 

Prayers for baby C:  During the first two trimesters, I prayed for EVERYTHING:  a good (and easy!) birth, a healthy baby, a baby that isn't collicky, ease in the transition, ease of nursing, yada, yada, yada.  Then about 2 months ago I realized that I couldn't pray away all the challenging aspects of labor, delivery, and post-partum.  So now I pray for peace in the transition.  That Daniel and I will work as a team to meet baby's needs and that we will take every challenge and immediately turn it over to the Lord.  Parenting will be difficult, of this I am certain.  BUT I have the best baby daddy of all time and a God who is bigger than my fear of all the things baby-entering-the-family.  Amen.

Pregnancy Journal #2

Greetings, sweet readers.  Per the usual, I have many thoughts.  Last night as I was word-vomitting to Danz (typical), I stopped and said, "You do know that I just need to hear myself say this."  His response: "Yeah, I figured that out about 10 minutes ago."  Lolz.  I just gotz lotz of thoughtz in my head and they ALL need to be said or written. So without further adieu, here are some of the latest  capers of baby scallion.

Daycare.  Let's just go here first.  People, BUCKETS of tears have already been shed about this one.  Completely serious.  Most would think the financial piece of daycare would frighten me (which, by the way, HOLY COW, how can something so small cost so much!!?!?  Talk about sticker shock...).  But it's not the price that bothers me so much.  I'm just already so dang attached to the little scallion swimming inside me and head-banging after I eat sweets.  And the idea that someone else will get to hang out with the little stinker 8 hours a day is killing me.  Mommas of littles in daycare, I completely welcome any encouragement you could offer.  You guys, it's gotten so bad this week that I actually texted Daniel on Tuesday and requested that he swing home in the afternoon because I was such a hot mess.  Full disclosure - I have yet to vomit as a result of this pregnancy, but I actually threw up on Tuesday thinking about daycare.  I got it bad for this little person inside me.  Who knew I could love someone so much without even knowing if it'll have the petname "sis" or "buddy"? 

Shin splints.  I'm not a runner.  I tried once several years ago and it was okay.  But my gangly body, I'm convinced, is just not built to run.  It's built to be graceful and dainty (hahahahahahahaha, nope).  Instead I prefer to walk.  Plus, then I can actually carry on a conversation with someone or hear myself think instead wheezing the whole time.  My co-teacher bestie, Courtney, and I have been walking a few times a week after school.  And I have developed shin-splints.  Those closest to me don't believe me and even laugh (how cruel, right!?), but I swear to you it's true.  Maybe my body just isn't accustomed to carrying extra weight or maybe I'm waddling when I'm walking.  But whatever it is, it's weird.  And painful.  And hilarious.  The only other time I've experienced pain like this is when I ran long-distance in 8th grade (cue uproarious laughter).  So I had my mom write a note to my track coach explaining that I could no longer compete in the 2 mile.  So cute, I know.

Registering.  Pregnant mommas, this it the only piece of unsolicited advice I will give you.  Take a seasoned momma with you to register.  Otherwise I promise you will implode.  We are thankful to have a momma of twins in our midst (holla sis-in-law Tammy!), so we coerced her into joining us.  And I just made her make all my decisions.  I quite literally would have burst into tears in every aisle.  Especially the bottles.  Um, excuse me, but is it really necessary to have 85,000 types of nipples?  Perhaps, but to this emotional and extremely hormonal prego, it was just stress-inducing.  Our first stop (Baby's R Us) was hilarious and actually enjoyable, but by the time we got to Target, my eyes had glazed over and I just made Danz and Tammy make all the decisions.  I was done and overwhelmed.  But it's done.  And I think we did a bang-up job. 

Nesting.  Not really happening yet.  I've looked at the closets in the nursery three times already with the full intention that I will clean them out and get them ready.  I stare for about 3 minutes then decide that I still have time, so I close the door and walk away.  The nursery is painted (have I told you that my parents and I actually painted it last summer in hopes that baby scallion might make its presence known sometime this school year?  Well, we did.  #typeA) and I'm in the middle of making valances, ordering black-out blinds, and prepping for carpet.  But other than that, the nesting has yet to officially begin. 

Belly-rubbing. Those of you who follow me on facebook might remember a post from a few months ago:  "I experienced my first unauthorized belly-touching today. Not only did I flinch at the awkwardness and suddenness of the pat, but I also yelped a little. Pregnant women, unite!"  I've identified why it bothered me so much.  While it was sweet that the Mexican exchange student just wanted to touch baby blueberry, she was quite literally just touching my stomach.  The babe was extremely low at that time, and there was no way I was going to say, "Oh sweet student, the baby is lower!  Just move your hand about 8 inches down."  #awkward  But now that the bump is finally visible (holla tall pregos who don't show until week 23, I get you) I love it when people touch it.  Within reason.  I'm sure my first stranger-danger touch will make me bust out my two Taekwondo moves, but I love it when friends and family get all up in my bidness.  Especially girlies who have never been pregnant.  They're the best.  Their eyes get all sparkly when I point out the head and the legs and the bum.  So fun.  So if I see you, I give you full permission to wax on.

Prayer.  I'll end on a more serious note.  My current prayer for baby scallion is that (s)he'll be a leader and not a follower.  That (s)he'll know from an early age that mops and pops love him/her but that Jesus loves him/her even more.  That (s)he'll be more concerned with honoring Jesus than pleasing others.  That (s)he'll use his/her influence to change the world.  And that (s)he'll have a killer head of hair and not need braces.  It's the little things.  

#14moreweeks

Marital Quirks

The longer I'm married (3 1/2 years, holla!), the more I realize how bizarre marriage makes you.  And I think it's absolutely fabulous.  Danz and I have developed about a billionty common quirks throughout our tenure together.  Now, it's important to note that I'm not telling you these just for kicks.  Instead, I'm telling you these so you can feel some solidarity in the fact that there are people in the world quirkier than you.  Without further adieu, here are two reasons why the Carlsons are quirktastic (not to be confused with twerktastic...as that would not be appropriate blog material...mom, don't look that up).

This was taken on our honeymoon segway tour of Savannah, Georgia.  Little did we know, months and years of marriage makes one totes cray.

Quirk 1:  I have a handful of shirts that have small, entirely useless, pockets on them.  Ladies, you've got to know what I'm talking about.  The pockets are merely a stylistic addendum that serve no practical purpose.  Even before Daniel and I were dating, whenever I would wear a shirt with a tiny pocket, he would try to put things in it...like pieces of gum or keys or chapstick. All of this put-pocketing has led us to creating a song that must be sung whenever a small-pocketed-shirt is worn.  And it goes like this:  "I put small things in my pockets.  I put small things in my pockets!"  Yes.  You'll notice the second sentence ends with an exclamation mark because, if I were singing it to you, the inflection of my voice would go up and my eyebrows would raise.  It's okay if you want to call us genius song-writers.  We'll gladly dust our shoulders off and write another song someday.

Quirk 2:   One of my nicknames for Daniel is "Flurff and turf and flurff and turf and surf, woo."  I'm not even kidding.  And here's how that lolific name came to be:  we used to call each other fluffy - maybe because we like fluffy pillows or because we would fight over the same fluffy blanket??  Who knows.  Naturally, I couldn't continue calling him such a simple name.  Simplicity is for the birds.  Must. Make. Life. Complicated.  So one of us added an "r" which made the nickname "Flurffy."  And then in a further attempt to rhyme the nickname with every possible word under the sun, I added several more nouns ("surf" and "turf" on an average day, "smurff" when I'm feeling really spunky).  The "woo" at the end just adds the pizazz that sends the nickname over the top. 

So happy Valentine's day to you all.  May your day be filled with quirktastic things that remind you how unbelievably hilarious this life really is.  

Prayer Group Update

Approximately 4 months ago, I wrote a post titled "Ladies of Topeka!!!" wherein I called women in Topeka to come to my house early on Thursday mornings for prayer and coffee.  Since that time, I've had quite a few questions as to how it's going.  To be honest?  It has been fantastic.  I've truly loved every Wednesday night because I'm looking forward to Thursday morning.  I've had a handful of dedicated women come to share and pray every week.  The best part?  I'm the common bond between all the women...BUT what's been so cool is that even though these women were, for the most part, strangers, they've gotten to know each other and have been able to be transparent and open.  So awesome.

Some of you love details.  In fact, my guess is that some of you would really like to attend but haven't because you're a bit unsure as to what we "do" each time we meet.  Well, here's a very real breakdown of our time together:
6:30-6:35 - snag some coffee and find a comfy spot on the couch
6:35-6:50 - share prayer request updates (we work really hard to be a group who prays more than shares...sometimes when women share, we get lost in our emotions, but we've found that when we pray, our real heart is shown and our friends are able to see what's really going on....unbelievably amazing)
6:50-7:10 - pray - we each pray 3 times and we pray through layers like an onion - we pray for ourselves and things WE can change (our attitudes, our feelings, our emotions, our situations, etc.), then we pray for our immediate families (our husbands, kids, etc.), and then we pray for people who we regularly have direct influence over (I pray for a few choice students, other women pray for co-workers or friends), and finally, we pray for our church/community
7:10-??? - second to the prayer time, this is my favorite.  We respond to each other's prayer.  After hearing our friends' specific prayer request, this is the time that we either ask follow-up questions or offer words of encouragement that we received while hearing her prayer.  Incredibly powerful.
7:15 - I head out...........sometimes the women leave when I do, other times they stay until.....I guess I don't know, but they're always gone when I get home around 4. :)

So, girlfriend, if you live in Topeka, please come.  You won't know what an incredible blessing this prayer group could be for you until you give it a try.  We promise it will be casual, low-key, and encouraging.  So please come.  I promise you will be blessed.  And that sleep you'll miss?  Don't even worry about it.  As my mom says, "Sleep is overrated."

Moms. Holla.

This post is dedicated to any and all mommas.  (Side-note - I think dads are da bomb as well, but since I'll never be able to relate to dads quite like I can to mommas, hence the dedication.  Love to all dads.) 

I've never been one to label any specific job as "hardest job in the world" because I truly believe there are many jobs that are taxing in every way.  That being said, I have to say mommying definitely ranks in the top 5 best and hardest jobs in the world.  In the short 18 hours I have nannied for the crazies (my affectionate name for these sweets), I have been completely exhausted, sweat through every layer of clothing, laughed until I cried, internally freaked because both littles were melting down in a parking lot, and had a combination of bananas and snot wiped in my hair.  Ya'll, this mothering thing is not for the faint of heart.

Mommas, read:  major props to you.  You rock out at this mothering thing all day every day.  You love with all you are even on the hard days.  You put yourself aside for people less than half your size.  And you cry tears of joy when your babes hand you weeds to put in a pretty vase.  You are my heros.  When I grow up, I want to be just like you. 

This summer I have the glorious job of watching three of the most beautiful, animated, hilarious, adorably sweet, and undeniably awesome little boys (there are 4 other little boys I'm quite partial to) on Tuesdays.  I often refer to them as the crazies because while they are 95% sweet, they are also 5% crazy (aka: full of little boy orneriness).  

In my brief time with them so far this summer, I have learned an abundant amount of lessons I will undoubtedly take to motherhood whenever that time should come.  The following are some snippets of our days together, and it should be noted that nothing, literally nothing, is exaggerated.  People, weird stuff happens wherever I am, so my nannying gig is no different.

I took the twins (22 months old) to a local kids place where nothing is off-limits and the phrase "no, no, don't touch that" is never uttered (blissful).  While in the toddler area and while attempting to create a colossal padded fort for the boys, I stepped on a rainbow-shaped pad, twisted my ankle, awkwardly flailed (you guys, I'm gangly, so anytime I lose my balance, it's ain't pretty), and promptly crashed to the ground.  In the process, I skinned my knee pretty bad.  Remember how bad it hurts when you skin your knee?  Oh right, you probably don't because you probably haven't skinned your knee for a good two decades.  Yeah....  And the best part is that the toddlers just kept playing unbeknownst to my pain while the other moms in the fenced-off area looked at me with such pity.  Apparently my face told the story of how my knee was feeling.  Cheers to you, moms, for making it look graceful when painful things happen. 

On our way to the van from the play place, the twins took turns being sad about leaving.  I lack a tremendous amount of upper body strength, so carrying them both was just not an option.  Since they were kind enough to take turns being sad, I figured I would return the favor and take turns carrying each of them.  While not fool-proof, my plan worked as we safely arrived to the van a mere 15 minutes after we left.  And the best part is, by this point, I had only sweat through one layer of clothes.  Props to moms with multiple littles.  How you manage to make it in and out of stores without breaking a sweat (or joining your littles in their melt-down!) astounds me. 

I picked up the older brother and one of his buddies just after lunch, and by the time everyone was safely buckled, one of the toddlers pointed to his shoeless right foot.  Awesome.  With sweat literally dripping off my face at this point, I looked around the van to no avail.  Minor freak-out ensued.  I finally found the shoe in the front seat (don't ask) and felt much relieved.  Well done, moms, for you do extremely complicated things (like transport multiple children of various ages) with ease.  And you rarely sweat.  Seriously, how do you do it!?

Bathtime happened right after naps this week.  One of my buddies was so sad about it, so I let him play with the cup that they use to dump water on their heads pre- and post-shampooing (awful explanation - I assume you understand the concept of a cup in the bathtub).  Rookie mistake.  One minute later, I was drenched after he thought he would return the favor and dump an entire cup of water on me.  Love to you, moms, for you have learned to laugh when your babes make you look like a hot mess.  You continue to amaze me.

Mommas - your job is exhausting in every way.  (Literally, every muscle in my body ached after yesterday.  No joke. But my heart was also ridiculously full.)  You have the power to shape moldable little minds and hearts - what a privilege!  The maddest of props to you, mommys.  And while I can't say it yet, whenever I see you in public with a little, I just want to take your hand and say, "Solidarity, sister.  I get it.  Keep going."  Utmost respect to you for doing what you do all day every day.  The world is truly a better place because of you.

I'm still here!!

Believe it or not, this blog still exists.  My lack of posting can mainly be blamed on an abundance of thoughts swirling in this thing called my brain.  Here's what I'm learning (in no particular order):

• How to be a better wife.  In a conversation with my mentor earlier this week, I said, "I'm just such a terrible wife."  Of course I didn't really mean it...naturally, I was looking for affirmation.  But, like the unbelievable mentor that she is, she said, "Don't just say that.  Do something about it."  So true.  The doing is beginning.  It certainly ain't pretty rehashing all my terribleness as a wife, but it is necessary.  
• How to focus more on others than myself.  Lifelong journey, I'm sure.
• How to give up my three favorite food groups (cheese, chips, and sweets) for the next 28 days. Please holler in my general direction if you hear nothing from me in 5 days.  I might be in the fetal position in front of the cheese drawer of my refrigerator (don't tell me you don't have a cheese drawer...).
• How to give the Gospel away. It's not just for me.  

So life is full.  And God is good. 

...to be continued...

Break!

Today officially begins my Christmas break.  And I'm truly thankful.  For so many things.

Thankful for a job where I get paid to love on teenagers.  How bizarre is that!?

Thankful for my crazy students.  One kid, who is nearly always a behavior problem, gave me a priceless glimpse into his heart yesterday.  I was working with him on a reading final and he regularly paused to strike up conversation with me.  (He really struggles with focusing, so I wasn't at all surprised that he had something to say every 5 minutes.)  I've been praying for this young man lately.  Praying that I will begin to see him as an individual and not just a behavior problem.  And the Lord is faithful, as always.  I saw this young man's heart.  I listened as he explained his sadness toward the people in Connecticut and his anger toward the shooter.  Later, he told me how excited he is that his doctor gave him the go-ahead to increase his meds (which, in turn, will help him focus more and be less of a behavior issue for teachers).  In that hour and 45 minutes, he was no longer a "behavior issue."  Instead, he was transformed into a maturing young man who just wants to be heard.  And heard him, I did.  I'm sure he and I will still get into it after break and I'm sure I'll still want to pull my hair out after working with him on occasion, but I sincerely hope that I will remind myself of the human that I was able to see yesterday.

Thankful for my co-workers.  I've received so many Christmas cards and treats in the past week.  Even though I don't always see eye-to-eye with my colleagues, I'm thankful they are in my life.  They make the rough days bearable.

Thankful for my superiors.  Not trying to kiss any behinds here (because let's face it, they are definitely not reading this), but I report to an amazing principal.  It is evident he loves his kids and evident that he wants his staff to be successful. 

Thankful for my "new" job.  I'm a semester into teaching special education, so it's hardly "new" anymore.  About once a week, I pause in awe of the Lord's faithfulness and supreme provision.  Even a year ago I wouldn't have thought that the SPED world would be for me.  Mid-February is when the ball first started rolling.  I love working one-on-one with students who legitimately need my assistance.  I love working in a co-teaching environment.  And I even love the paperwork.  I'm notoriously bad at planning my life, so I suppose it shouldn't have shocked me much that my initial plan didn't work out.  Again, God is faithful.

So I begin my time away from the kiddos today.  I'm sure I'll miss them, but after teaching for only a short 2 1/2 years, I've learned that breaks are good for us all.  My 5th hour will have to wait until after break to hear my sweet recorder tunes, but I'm sure they won't be too bummed.  Happy snow day to those of you who are enjoying the perks of the education realm!

PS - did ya notice anything different about my blog?  A friend who used to teach at my high school did a bang-up job, don't ya think?  Thanks, Ashley!  I love it!!!

Grieving

My heart is grieving this week.  On Tuesday, my principal called to inform me of some "bad news."  A student of mine was killed in a car accident on Monday night.

I've only taught her for about 6 weeks (I didn't have her last semester and she was at a different school for the first part of this semester), but my heart still grieves.

Naturally, I think of my last interaction with her.  Was it positive enough?

On Thursday and Friday of last week, my kiddos were a little insane, but I told myself not to make it a big deal because their insanity was likely due to spring break being just around the corner.  So I didn't make it a big deal.  The girl who was killed was really pushing my buttons on those days.  I wrestled with what to do because I knew any kind of discipline would not be helpful due to the impending break.  So I pushed her, but not too much.

The first question that came to mind when I heard the news was, did she know Jesus?  I grieve if she didn't and I rejoice if she did.  I grieve with her family.  I'm not even a parent, and I can't imagine being told my 15-year-old has been killed. I grieve with her friends.  Teenagers are so wonderful, but sometimes in their wonderfulness, they forget that they are not invincible.  And I grieve with my 7th hour.  It's a small class (25 students...my smallest class of sophomores), and I know her presence will be missed.

So now the question is, what do I say to a group of confused, grieving, and aching teenagers?  Oh to have the freedom to tell them about Jesus.

My prayer now is that the Lord will provide the words to say what needs to be said, the eyes to see what needs must be addressed, and the ears to hear my sweet students' thoughts.

When life is confusing and I don't understand why certain things happen, I must remind myself:  God is good, and He only does good.

Ho-hum

Dear followers,
Sorry for my lack of posting.  The last 6 weeks have been, um...interesting.  Don't worry - no major crises at the Carlson Casa.  Just loads of processing the question: What do I want to do with the rest of my life!?!

I know, it's a loaded question.  So we've loaded and unloaded about a million times.  Daniel has had his ear talked off more times than I can count.  Pros and cons lists are flying through the air.  Conversations with all kinds of people are being had.

And in the midst of all the questioning, we've maintained our 40 hour work weeks and tried to keep picking away at this major purchase we made at the beginning of December.

In an effort to find joy in the present, here are some slightly entertaining snippets of our life lately:

• Daniel has a new-found pastime: bird-watching.  Yes, you read that right.  The previous owner of our house had a billion bird feeders outside, so Dans has kept them filled and prefers to spend part of every weekend gazing at the little creatures.  So I smile and call him grandpa.
• Last weekend, hubz and I spent time in A-town with my family.  My broski and I proceeded to create a comedic stand-up routine.  Are you laughing?  You shouldn't be. It was painful.  I mean, WE were laughing, but hubz keeps saying that the only reason moms, pops, and sissy were laughing is because our routine made them feel uncomfortable due to the lack of hilarity.  Whatever.  It was hysterical.
• Nothing real hilarious at school. The kids are sweet, and it makes me happy when they bring me Diet Dr. Pepper.
• I ruined a perfectly good batch of Amish friendship bread due to a minor oversight.  Minor oversight = dumping all the ingredients in the bowl before dividing the original dough.  Confused?  If you've made the bread, you know what I'm talking about.  So I threw it all away.  And mourned the loss of the 4 friendships I would have cultivated. 

 So life is still good.  It just feels...different right now.  I'm sure I'll fill you in sometime, but right now, the dots are still disconnected for me, too.

Happy Thursday, AKA, Happy best day of the week.

Fail?

About a month ago I signed up to bring treats to Bible study tonight.  Naturally, this week has gone nothing like I expected.

So I pulled a domestic fail.

This is what I brought.

 And you know what?  Life went on.  No one said anything.  The laydays ate the goods.  I laughed with one about my fail.  All was okay.

Can you say, "Reality check?"  Life goes on...even when you bring store-bought cookies to an all-women's group and don't put them in a pretty bowl.

Christmas Imperfections

Moving in December creates interesting circumstances.  See below:

Christmas cards started...but not sent out.  (Please note the KitchenAid in the background.  The bowl is missing, and that means something has recently been baked.  Unfortunately that something was only for my students.  PS - they raved about Sheree's No-Fail Chocolate Chip Cookies.)

 A tree with no presents underneath.  About 50% finished with shopping, but no wrapping has occurred...because the wrapping paper is at our apartment...which we are avoiding like the plague.

 Christmas decor that never made it's way out of the package. 

 More unfinished Christmas decor.  I continue to love this strand of sparkly garland, but it never made it to a better location. 

 An unpacked freezer (yes, we moved 2 1/2 weeks ago and I haven't unpacked our freezer).  Look close and you'll see about 6 dozen cookies for the kiddos. 

 A faux China cabinet full of decor/Christmas decor boxes/painting supplies.  But doesn't it look lovely against the floral backdrop?!

 A dining room table that is quasi-decorated and quasi-"I'm not sure where I put that, so I'll unpack the box right here in a failed attempt to find it".

Either way, it's Christmastime and I'm loving being in our house for the season.  I hope to tackle my first project over break (yippee, one more day!!!).  Will def post pitchers.

Happy almost Christmas break (for those of you lucky ones who get one)!

And happy light-looking (for those of you who do that kind of thing).  Hubs and I are leaving in 30 seconds to grab a hot bev and drive wildly down the quaint streets of T-town. Yippee!!

a challenge (of sorts...)

I love my family.  Scratch that.  I love my TWO families - my immediate family and hubs' immediate family.  Last weekend, one of my SIL's (sister-in-law - for those new to the infamous abbreviations that regularly pop up on this ol' blog) told me about a friend of hers who gave up clothes shopping for 6 months.  That idea intrigued me a whole heck uva lot.

So I talked to hubs.  Because that's what I do when I'm intrigued.  He is my sounding board.  Sweet guy.

Then I thought more about it.  And thought and thought for 3 days.  I went back and forth.  I reasoned with myself as to why it would be a bad idea and why I thought I didn't really need to do it.  Then I realized that attempting to talk myself out of it is probably reason enough as to why I need to do it.

So I talked some more to hubs.  And thought some more.

And decided to give it a shot.

So from December 1 to June 1, I will not buy any clothes.  (I already tried to rationalize that I might need that cheap hoodie from Old Navy, those yoga pants from Victoria's Secret, that scarf from Target, those shoes from Gap, or those too-cute socks from Dillard's.  Lame.  I can do without.)

Bottom line:  I have enough.  I have more than enough.

I know that decisions like these are best made in secret, but I figured that if the idea intrigued me as much as it did/does, perhaps you would be intrigued as well.

Do you have more than enough _________ (fill in the blank...for me it's clothes)?  Would you think about joining me? 

Just throwing it out there...

Imagine what could be done with the money you would otherwise spend on clothes.  Dream big, people.

Any takers?  Holler back!!

PS - much gratitude to SIL Tammy for the suggestion.

Thanks

Psalm 107:17b
So thank God for his marvelous love,
      for his miracle mercy to the children he loves;
   Offer thanksgiving sacrifices,
      tell the world what he's done—sing it out!

Thanks for...
...a husband who has self-assurance as one of his top 5 strengths. $2 boo-rito on Halloween?  Def yes.

 ...for neph #3 who always amazes me with his growing mind.

 ...for nephs #'s 5 and 6...I mean, come on, what's not to love about human-sized candy corns?

...and so much more.

Life is sweet.  I saw a play on Saturday (Charlie Cox Runs with Scissors...never heard of it?  I hadn't either).  It had a great message, and you know I love all things with great messages.  The message was this:  life is short, so don't spend your time waiting for bad things to happen or waiting for life to "get better."  Love love LOVE where you're at...no matter where you're at.  It's all about perspective.

Happy Thanksgiving Week!

PS - 9 days until the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT.  :)

Advice?

This week, I was asked to write a one-page essay of advice for novice teachers.  I love writing, but forced writing is not my favorite thing.  *Cue "now you know how your students feel".*  I know.  But as soon as I started writing, I couldn't stop.  I had well over a page and ended up trimming most of the stylistic aspects.  I'm certain I don't have all the answers for novice teachers, but I'm also certain that my advice is sound.  So new teachers, read this.  Be inspired, or, at the very least, know that better days are ahead.

After successfully completing your first year of teaching, what advice would you give a beginning teacher?

            First of all, just relax.  Your “to-do” list will be long, and it will not shrink until May.  And then you’ll start to think about everything you want to change for next year, and your list will lengthen again. Everything will get done, you just need to prioritize. 

            Utilize the resources around you.  Regardless of the size of your school, there will be at least one veteran teacher down the hall.  Teaching is not meant to be a lonely occupation, so spend time collaborating with your colleagues.  If you are still sitting at your desk banging your head against the wall at 5 pm because you are unable to think of an idea for tomorrow, call someone!  Someone probably has an idea that will give you direction for the next lesson. 

            Contact parents early on, and stay in contact with them.  Contacting parents does not need to be like swimming with sharks.  The earlier you contact them about something positive, the easier it will be to contact them if/when you have an issue with their child.

            Get to know the students, but do not stress out if you’re unable to relate to one.  While you may not have something in common with each student, you can at least let them know you care.  Recognize their birthdays, celebrate their accomplishments (academic, athletic, musical, etc.), and attend their events. 

            Don’t expect perfection from yourself or your students.  Inform them on day one that you are not perfect.  If you trip, forget things, mispronounce a word, or drop your supplies in front of them, laugh it off.  They need to see that you are a real person.  Tell them personal stories that relate to your lesson and show that you were once a teenager. 

            Last, but certainly not least, love your job.  Even on the hard days, love that you have an opportunity to make a difference in students’ lives. 

Arteecal

A friend posted this today...and I deemed it worthy to post again.  It's that good.

It's about...busyness.

In other news, I was super proud of my sophies for their work on their rough drafts.  They are learning something...

Oh sheesh.

Days like these make me wonder, "Why can't I work at Burger King?"  JK.  Kinda.

Not a bad day.  Just a full day.

Sophies (sophomores, if you're new) started writing today.  Writing projects = exhausting days.  I think (and hope) the kiddos learn, but, oh mah word, they have a zillion questions.  Today I instated a new rule:  before you ask Mrs. Carlson, you must ask your neighbor.  I think it worked.  At least a little.  I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to answer as many questions as I could while trying to explain as clearly as I could.  Oh goodness.  I also wore a dress.  Bad decision.  Bending over in a dress = awkward.  Squatting down in a dress = awkward stand-up process.  Wearing a dress on a writing day = poor decision.  Oh sheesh.

I have one incredibly high-functioning class of freshies (freshmen, again, if you're new), and one incredibly low-functioning class of freshies.  The high class always blows me out of the water and the low class leaves me dumb-founded as to how to teach them better/differently.  Oh sheesh.

I had my first crier of the year.  I tend to have lots of tear-filled students...hopefully that is unrelated to the fact that I am their teacher.   Hopefully.  Today's situation was unique.  And good.  Not good because aforementioned student was crying.  Good because it caused me to pause.  I had a million things going through my head, but talking with that student was not one of them.  It made me slow down (VERY difficult for me), be patient, and listen.  I asked student if he wanted to talk to me or a counselor, and he said he wanted to talk to me.  So I suppose I'm doing something right.  Oh sheesh.

I took my sophies' tests home yesterday...and totally forgot to grade them.  I suppose I know what will entertain me tonight.  Oh sheesh.

Last week I had a sweet student say, "I don't ever say this because I think it's dumb, but TGIF."  Touche, sweet student, touche.

TGI(almost)F.  Oh sheesh.........