What I Like About Teaching

No, it's not the summer, because, in fact, it's only about a month and one is still expected to attend trainings & stuff.

What I like about teaching is that it's an opportunity for infinite hope.
Hope that I get the good kids.
Hope that this year goes well.
Hope that their parents don't object to the material.
Hope that they pass this test.
Hope that they understand what I'm trying to say.
Hope that that one parent doesn't keep calling all year.
Hope that I can get some rest over Christmas break.
Hope that this semester will be more focused.
Hope that I can get my room in order before I get observed.
Hope that the assistant principal didn't see me coming in late.
Hope that they'll remember the basics for that state exam.
Hope that I don't have that kid next year.
Hope that I can fit this novel in before the end of the year.
Hope that I can get all my curriculum together over the summer.

Hope that, next year, I'll have it together and it'll be the best year ever.

Exes

I used to feel a bit of self-pity about having been dumped back in the day. Even as a happily married woman, I still felt that twinge of "mean ol' boys didn't know what they'd be missing". I must say that, recently, I had a bit of a change of heart about that. I mean, yes, totally the two (three?) guys that totally dumped me did not realize what they were missing, but, truth be told, I wasn't my best self when I was with them and I really can't blame him. Once I got into relationships that lasted more than two weeks, I ended up blindsiding them by morphing into the kind of girlfriend you see in How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days, instead of remaining the charming self I really am. [ahem.] Poor Brandon. And Dan.

Usually, though, I was pretty quick on the dumping draw myself. If any little thing went wrong or I just lost the fire, he was outta there. For example, my first boyfriend ever, Brian, got a haircut. Apparently, that was enough for my 2nd-grade-self to see the light, and away he went. Frankie, in the 8th grade, asked me to be his girlfriend on Thursday, then on Friday, he said a curse word at my lunch table. Being the kind of girl I was, I didn't stand for that kind of disrespect and dumped him in a note on Monday. In my later years, I regretted this, because in high school he lost the big glasses and became a titan of intellect and athleticism and hotness. Fortunately, he secretly still pined for me until college, when we ran back into each other, started dating, didn't break up, got married, and started having babies together. Now, it's not so secret that we like each other, but it helped that I cut out the crazy long before we said "I do" (okay, so I mostly cut out the crazy. I'm a woman, I have my days.)

When I was talking to some of the girls on the drill team I sponsor, I reminded them that for all these "dumb ol' boys" that they're tired of and have to dump, there's my son. He's a gorgeous little toddler who loves his mom and is doted on by these beautiful, charming girls. I reminded them that those boys were once like him, and that my boy, presumably, will some day have his heart broken by a dumb ol' girl. So there's a part of me that winces now for the boys who I wasn't very nice to or who I didn't pay attention to or whose heart I may have broken. If that's you, I'm sorry, and here's hoping karma recognizes my humility for my son's sake.