Thoughts From A New Teacher

Someone is out to get me. I know it. I can feel the eyes watching my every move as I go through my crazy day. Perhaps it's a government conspiracy. They want to see how I do under pressure. They sent their very best to test me. And they couldn't send just one person. No, they felt that would not provide enough information. They decided to send 20.....

I hardly have a moment of peace. Lunch time is delightful, but the clock glares at me, ticking away minute after minute....and time is up all too soon. And then they're back, much too noisily entering the room, taking forever to find their seats, wondering what's going to happen next, waiting to see how I'll react to their impatient questioning. I can see it in their eyes. I can read their minds. She's going to crack soon. Let's be extra loud. She'll never make it through this day. She'll quit this job and go home crying. And we'll win.

And then suddenly, from out of nowhere, one of them walks up to me and gives me a hug. A little while later I find a lollipop or a lovely drawing on my desk. I'm amazed by the creativity that exudes from the one who was completely off task and not very nice earlier in the day, but stayed after class so that I could help him finish making a "tuxedo" out of paper- complete with colored bow tie and lots of tape. He walked home wearing it.

I go home tired, my mind spinning, my voice gone, knowing that I have to do it all over again the next day. But I wonder if the one who went home sick is feeling any better. I'm excited because I know they are going to love the science project tomorrow. I hope that somehow I can help those who are really struggling with reading. So I'll get on pinterest and look for ideas. And I'll grade that stack of papers that seems never ending. And I'll go to bed early and pray again for strength and patience for another day.

And the government will probably not show up in my classroom, laughing because their 20 kids took me down. It might not be an easy job, but it's going to be a rewarding one.

 

Yes, it has been forever since I have blogged. Life is still crazy in Oklahoma, but I have just failed miserably at recording any blog worthy events. Until today.

Lately my caregiving skills have been tested by new clients. These clients happen to be the four legged kind. This summer I have become the dog watcher of Enid. It is truly remarkable how many people have asked me to watch their little darlings over the past several weeks. I have become friends with a couple of chihuahuas, a St. Bernard, a great Dane and some pit bulls. So far I have not been injured by any of these dogs nor have I lost any. I let them go potty, and I give them food and attention. I believe that they adore me, even while they are mad at their parents for deserting them.

Things have moved along smoothly. I go in and out of people's houses, one dog here, two dogs there, and , of course, I still have to care for my own dog, who is settling in fairly well since she has joined me in my little home. Their are mishaps here and there- a little poop on the living room floor at one house, a little dog puke on the floor at my house ( note to self: do not feed the poodle bacon).

Then yesterday happened.

After church, I went to let the pit bulls out. A few minutes after leaving I realized my mistake: I didn't have the house key. I was wearing a dress, so I had not slipped it in my pocket after unlocking the door as I had been doing all weekend. I had set it down on the kitchen table. And I knew deep down in my heart that it was still on the kitchen table, and I had locked myself out of the house. Horrible moment of realization- I was so mad at myself! I ran a couple of errands and went home to change clothes, all the while thinking about how I was going to solve this problem. I drove back to the house and looked around. Tried to open the garage door -nope. The dogs started barking. Went to the back yard and tried to take the screen off a window- failure. I went back and sat in the car and finally called my friend and confessed that I had locked myself out of her house. She told me that the kitchen window should be unlocked so if I could get the screen off I could get in that way. Went back and tried again. Dogs still barking. I'm hoping that no neighbors are watching me. At that moment I received a text message. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that it was one of those chain messages, and it started out like this: "God has seen you struggling with something." I laughed- how appropriate.

I then decided I needed to recruit some help. So I used a lifeline and called a friend. For the sake of anonymity I will change his name: Burt came quickly to my aid armed with tools to break in to the house. I have never had to ask a friend to help me in a criminal act before. He used a screwdriver to remove the screen from the window. The dogs continued barking. Window open- things are looking up! Then I had to be hoisted up. As I started headfirst through the window, I suddenly realized I didn't know how to land on the floor without injuring myself. If I was really cool like Ziva David and had been trained by the Mossad, I could have just somersaulted in without a second thought. Alas, I am not a fictional television character. I came back down and decided to try something else. I pulled over the plastic doghouse and stood up on it. It promptly collapsed! Of course. Burt said HE could just jump through the window, but he was pretty sure he would not receive a friendly welcome from Pitbulls 1 and 2. I agreed. Next step- garbage can- much more sturdy than the doghouse. I managed to get up on that and then sit on the windowsill- hitting the kitchen floor feet first rather than head first. Mission accomplished. As Burt left, he said, "Make sure you get the key."

Just Another Day

Admittedly it was a better day. The pain from the shots had subsided, and when I arrived the next morning, the boy was full of smiles! Happy, happy, happy. This made mommy and Melody very happy. Yay for no pain! Yay for no drugs! And not a doctor in sight.......

Of course, thinks smiling baby Lakyn, Melody might get bored .......I should provide her with some sort of entertainment today.

Let' s see.....what should I do? I know. I'll scream when she changes my diaper. I really do hate that. But what would be even better is if I pee while she's changing my diaper. I will get pee all over the changing table and my outfit. And then while she goes to get me another outfit, I'll poop in my clean new diaper.

"Lakyn! I just changed you! You stink!" Frustration. Here comes another diaper and the new outfit- which produces even more screaming because the child really hates getting dressed. I try to get the shirt over his head as quickly as possible.

I hate getting dressed. Why did I pee on the other outfit? Oh, well.....the pooping was classic. I am so funny. What is wrong with this outfit? Something does not feel right.

"Oh, Lakyn...it's not that bad....it's your fault, anyway...you went potty on the other shirt. I just have to button it...almost done.....oh, where is the pacifier? Maybe that will quiet you down."

I feel around searching for the little object. What is wrong with this outfit? Oh.....the pacifier is stuck inside of it! Figures.

Oh, she keeps messing with the outfit. Just pick me up, already! Can't we be finished with this changing thing? Thank you. It's about time you give me the pacifier! Now just hold me......I have been traumatized!

Good grief. Pee, poop, pacifiers.......o.k. I will just sit down and rock the child for awhile.

Ah, this is better....I am comfortable again. I think that is enough entertaining the babysitter for now. Let's just rock........

Traumatic Experiences

I never liked shots. Who does, really? Obviously some people are more accepting of it than others, but a big needle poking me is not something that makes me think happy thoughts. And when you are itty bitty and don't understand what is going on, a shot is just something that ruins your day!

Poor little Lakyn had his first round of shots yesterday, and he was so unhappy. I spent the day telling him that doctors are terribly mean people and how sorry I was that they treated him so badly. I participated in his drug therapy- doses of tylenol every 3-4 hours (it was obvious when the medicine was wearing off). The screaming was just so sad - I have mentioned that the boy has a serious set of lungs and at times the screaming is frustrating, but this was totally necessary. I mean, the poor child has 3 little holes in his legs- there is such a thing as screaming at an appropriate time and for good reason. Thankfully tylenol made him sleepy- so there was relief from pain and suffering for awhile.

We spent the afternoon on the bed. I watched t.v. with a little bundle on my chest. Apparently this is his favorite sleeping position and because of the terrible situation he had endured, I indulged him. I really didn't mind too much. He would wake up briefly, cry a little like a wounded puppy, and then cuddle up again, trying to forget the painful memories of doctors and needles by going back to dreamland, content with the knowledge that this babysitter lady was definitely not someone who would poke him with a sharp object. In fact, he might consider forgiving her for being so slow about getting the bottle ready...........and he might even smile a little at her.....oh, wait, the tylenol just wore off.....AAAHHHHHHHH!

Quote of the Night

At church tonight I asked the kids the question we learned last week:

"What is the Bible?"

Karissa (age 5): "the Word of God"

Me: "Haydyn, what is the Bible? The Bible is the.....?"

Haydyn (age 3): "Chips! We have chips at home."

Classic. I laughed out loud.

For the record, he did say the correct answer later on.