Keeping you posted
What I have been doing:
Teacher inservice this week. Long, inspired speeches given by people who are paid to sound inspiring, but who sound remarkably cliche.
Something funny that happened:
I sat by a woman who had Shrek fingers. Her body was normal. Her face was normal. Her arms were normal. When I looked at her hands though, instead of fingers, I discovered round sausages pegged with tiny flat fingernails at the end. Her toes were the same. Fat and stubby, with tiny nails, lost in the puffy skin of her digits. Yum.
Something ironic that happened:
We listened to a five-hour lecture on poverty. In the middle of this lecture, someone distributed our lunch. It was a small, mashed sandwich remnant, soaked with pickle juice and laying on a limp piece of warm lettuce. Were they trying to make us FEEL the poverty? What about a soup kitchen? Maybe next time I will suggest that.
Something small-townish that happened:
The P.E. coach at my new school was my P.E. coach in elementary school. I was in the second grade. Little, with long stringy hair and glasses. Knobby knees. Aqua cotton shorts and a floral button up shirt. I never did anything wrong, and I just adored him. One day, he told me that my zipper was down, and I died a thousand times in mortification. I told him about it today, and we laughed. Funny that it made such an impression on me that I remembered it twenty-two years later.
Something heartwrenching that happened:
I dropped Dillon off at the babysitter yesterday and today. Both days, he has been sad. Both days, he has been thrilled to see me when I come get him. If the boy wasn't already crawling, I am sure he would have learned this week. because the second he sees me, he takes off toward me, choking back his excitement. He curls up in my arms and puts his head on my shoulder. He kicks his legs to scoot in closer to me, cause we just can't get close enough. One chubby hand is on my neck. The other arm wraps around my shoulder. Just like I have done to him a thousand times before, he lifts his hand and pats me on the back.
"It's okay, Momma! I missed you so much but now we are together again and we can play!"
That boy. He just gets me.
Teacher inservice this week. Long, inspired speeches given by people who are paid to sound inspiring, but who sound remarkably cliche.
Something funny that happened:
I sat by a woman who had Shrek fingers. Her body was normal. Her face was normal. Her arms were normal. When I looked at her hands though, instead of fingers, I discovered round sausages pegged with tiny flat fingernails at the end. Her toes were the same. Fat and stubby, with tiny nails, lost in the puffy skin of her digits. Yum.
Something ironic that happened:
We listened to a five-hour lecture on poverty. In the middle of this lecture, someone distributed our lunch. It was a small, mashed sandwich remnant, soaked with pickle juice and laying on a limp piece of warm lettuce. Were they trying to make us FEEL the poverty? What about a soup kitchen? Maybe next time I will suggest that.
Something small-townish that happened:
The P.E. coach at my new school was my P.E. coach in elementary school. I was in the second grade. Little, with long stringy hair and glasses. Knobby knees. Aqua cotton shorts and a floral button up shirt. I never did anything wrong, and I just adored him. One day, he told me that my zipper was down, and I died a thousand times in mortification. I told him about it today, and we laughed. Funny that it made such an impression on me that I remembered it twenty-two years later.
Something heartwrenching that happened:
I dropped Dillon off at the babysitter yesterday and today. Both days, he has been sad. Both days, he has been thrilled to see me when I come get him. If the boy wasn't already crawling, I am sure he would have learned this week. because the second he sees me, he takes off toward me, choking back his excitement. He curls up in my arms and puts his head on my shoulder. He kicks his legs to scoot in closer to me, cause we just can't get close enough. One chubby hand is on my neck. The other arm wraps around my shoulder. Just like I have done to him a thousand times before, he lifts his hand and pats me on the back.
"It's okay, Momma! I missed you so much but now we are together again and we can play!"
That boy. He just gets me.
posted by Amanda
at
9:06 PM
5 Comments:
Awww, I love the little back pat-pats I get from my son...makes you feel so loved!
Aww...the last part of your post nearly made me cry! Not out of sadness, just because of the pure love you receive from your child. Dillon is such a sweet baby boy. BRING HIM TO ME! :)
Not shocking about the PE teacher and your memories. You would be a professional student if you could. That's why it is perfect you're a teacher! You can now be the one generating such funny/touching memories for your students. Especially your students.
I like this post.
All kinds of different emotions wrapped up into one.
It is so amazing how teachers can leave impressions on us like that. A good reminder for you! Some little student will probably remember teacher Amanda for a long time!!
ps yuck lunch. I hate pickles, pregnancy and all...
That is so sweet. I almost melted. Seriously. Dillon is precious!
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