My final Slice as told by the numbers of my day (thanks Beth for me stealing your idea):
2 students/past students who have died in the past 24 hours
1 student who almost had to be Baker Acted
2 teachers that I may have accidentally put into shock from the above information
0 white tables that I could find this morning for the emotional situations
50 white tables that should have been available
7 appetizers made for a birthday dinner I’m throwing tonight
5 hours of sleep.
1 student who told me I was old in front of the class
1 student in the same class who told me I looked tired/stressed
26 students who yelled at both students who said I was old and stressed
3 periods spent displaced from my classroom because they are testing in there
1 senior who stood up in the middle of my directions this morning and proclaimed she had to pee
3 students who were listening to the Duck Tales theme song in class
27(?) days left for seniors
31 slices completed as of today
93 comments on other slices
8 slices I planned, but never wrote
A million fart sounds that were made by my shoes today that I realized during a real quiet part of class time
Congrats to everyone for getting to the end 🙂 I’m just happy getting to the end of the day
What did I want to do when I got home today? I wanted to sleep. I wanted to cook. I wanted to clean. I definitely didn’t want to do any classwork. It was a very unproductive day.
When I got home I needed to prepare for a dinner that I am having tomorrow night. And that is all I wanted to do. I wanted to cook and clean and prepare for guests just like my grandmother used to do. I think she’d be proud of the things that I’m making as they are most of the things she would’ve made.
Again, like I said in my post a couple of days ago, I still asked my mother how to hard boil eggs. Even though I’ve asked her million times and it’s all over the inter-webs. And yes, now my kitchen looks like a crazy mess hall in an military base. And I’ve got more laundry than I know what to do it. How do we wear so many clothes in between loads?
And I hear myself listing everything that I would need to do and hating the idea that I came up with this in the first place. But really I love it. I love entertaining. I love cooking and I don’t hate cleaning when this kind of thing is involved.
Even if I’m trying to cook six things at once and somehow a knife falls and there’s frosting on my socks.
I love it. Because I am a grandmother’s granddaughter.
What do I need to do tomorrow?
- Buy breakfast for a couple of students taking the FSA tomorrow.
- Move stuff from my regular classroom to my temporary room because they are testing in my room tomorrow.
- teach things.
- Take a good hard look at why I make plans for a billion years about what I’m going to slice about for the whole month, and then see how the best laid plans…
- ALL THE OTHER THINGS.
::passes out on couch disney-princess-dramatic-like::
My brother just got a new job. For our entire life he has said “I don’t think I’d want an office job, I’d need to be doing something.” He’d sit and listen to my dad on work calls and decided it just wasn’t for him. Now, he works WITH my dad, doing the exact same thing. Loves it. Has steady hours, benefits for his new baby and time with his family at night and on weekends.
I’m truly so happy he loves it – he was grappling with the challenge of getting the job and I said it was good to hear him getting excited over this kind of thing. And then he hit me. (figuratively of course). And he said “Yeah, it’s like knowing your whole life you wanted to be an English teacher and then teaching nothing but Debate this year.”
HOLD MY ICE CREAM WHILE I GET ICE FOR THAT BURN.
That’s true. I’ve always been blessed in knowing exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up. I wanted to be a teacher – when I was in high school I realized that my show was meant for an older audience, so high school it was. English was my favorite. I took a hot minute as a math major due to a heinous teacher incident (#notactuallyherfaultbuti’llblameher). And now I teach a full (ish..) classload of debate. It’s a very cool experience. But it’s also showed me just exactly how our goals can shift and change.
Today I was blessed to tell a student that she had passed the SAT with a high enough score to cover her for the FSA. She SCREAMED and did a victory lap around my room. She jumped up and down with a bunch of expletives that I allowed her (let’s be real, I allow her all the time, she could send me to Paris and back if I had instituted a swear jar at the beginning of the year – but you live and you learn). It was such a great teacher moment. She hugged me and skipped out the door when the bell rang. One less thing on her shoulders that she didn’t know would be there when she moved from New York. I saw her check off one of her goals this morning.
A while back I was awarded Teacher of the Year and all I could think about was “This must be a mistake, I’m super not good enough” – and then my six word memoir was “Teacher of the year, now what?”
14 year old me knew I wanted to be a high school English teacher. But she didn’t know what my goals were past that. I’m still trying to figure them out myself.
I legit was sooooo close to forgetting!
The first day back from spring break and I’m so tired.
I’m just going to sit here and watch Trevor Noah’s comedy Special “Afraid of the Dark.”Hilarious. Do it. But dang it, I posted!
Dear Mother Nature,
Was it absolutely necessary to be cold during our Spring Break? It’s Florida. Your sunshine is misleading and almost a cruel joke when you consider the COLD breeze.
Dear Father Time,
The fact that you made this week go by so fast is just mean.
Dear Whomever makes it so I don’t have some sort of holiday off until AFTER graduation,
So a few days ago it was my 31st birthday. I happened to see another slicer’s blog about being 20 something. So I’m gonna take that idea and run with it for my 30 somethings out there.
I’m 31 and I can make decisions for myself but I’d still like to get some reassurance that those decisions are the right ones.
I’m 31 but I still text my mother every single time I make chicken in the oven. Do I have a whole bunch of screen captures of this answer already? Sure I do. But not for that moment.
I’m 31 but my mother still wakes me up via phone call every morning for work. Can I get up by myself? Sure. But why? It’s worked so well for 31 years. Yes, I realize that I live with a boyfriend now. He doesn’t even stir when my loud ringtone goes crazy in the morning. Good to know no tornado, thunderstorm, nor Florida Georgia line Ringtone can wake him from his slumber.
I’m 31 and I finally found myself being OK with being the adultiest adult in the room. But not all the time. Let’s not get carried away.
I’m 31 and I get to make grown up decisions like having ice cream for dinner and macaroni and cheese for breakfast. But I did finally get a primary care doctor that I can go regularly to when I get sick six times a year (usually back to back).
I’m 31 and on my birthday one of my friends asked me what it was like to be 31. (She’s six whole months younger than me -the jerk.) It’s the same question every year from a random human, right? Do you feel any older? You know my answer was this year? That before I had actually gotten out of bed on my birthday I had already put Icy Hot on twice. That stuff is my jam. Better than sliced bread. I’m serious – I’d rather have to pull off pieces of bread from an UNSLICED loaf than give up Icy Hot. #truelove
I’m 31 and sometimes I just want to clean things. I just want to clean house, clean dishes, clean laundry. And sometimes that takes precedence over any of the work I bring home. Does that mean sometimes that my work from school just take a field trip in my car? Definitely. It’s a pretty well-traveled pile of papers.
I’m 31 and I definitely don’t like every single human. But I still find that it’s important to be nice to everyone. It’s not hard. Although some people accuse me of being fake I don’t think being nice is a bad thing. I think it’s not hard to be nice to people whether you like them or not. I like being nice.
I’m 31 and sometimes the hardest thing to do is remember to write this blog post.