Sometimes My Eyes

As I type these very words, I can hear my alarm clock going off upstairs, where by some strange and amazing God-given ability my husband can sleep straight through the BEEP, WEEP, MEEP, MEEP. How he does this, I don't know, but if I could bottle it up and patent it I would be a rich woman from all the insomniac sales I could generate.

When the thunder clap jarred me out of bed at 2:30am and my heartbeat raced through my body reverberating the echo for the next five minutes, I knew sleep was a hopeless case for the remainder of the two hours which consisted solely of my eyes checking the clock to estimate the mental countdown of "how many hours of sleep I can still have if I fall asleep right this very second."

Perhaps this sleeplessness has to do something with the fact that 7th period today, I will be evaluated for the first time, by my BOSS. Staying home for the last four years with my kids has kept me from the professionally articulated formal evaluations of one's job performance. Sure, I knew if I had a bad day, the kids knew I had a bad day, and sometimes my husband even knew I had a bad day (ok, probably knew every time) but I didn't have to live it out in a pre-conference meeting, job site performance evaluation and post-conference follow-up.

Perhaps if my husband could have developed this method, my transition into the "real world" would be a bit less stressful and I, at this moment, would not be sleep deprived and for sure ready to crash off my over-tired high like my 2-year-old does after her head stops spinning long enough to crash nose-first into her pillow. Imagine how helpful Tim could have been these last four years if only he had taken the time to schedule routine check-ups on my performance.

Husband: Explain your plans for tomorrow when I arrive in your living room for our evaluation.

Me: If you arrive anywhere between 1:00 and 3:00, check my bed, I will be trying like crazy to fit a nap into the time when Kayla stops spinning, the washer stops spinning, and my head stops spinning.

Husband: How do you plan to accommodate the different needs of each of your children?

Me: If they are not whining, crying, throwing, or screaming; I will be working on some aspect of re-cleaning what I have already cleaned for the forty-third time. If any other -INGing is going on, I will be addressing that need in the method which subsides it the quickest (i.e. bribery, threatening, beating, more bribery)

Husband: Are there any special circumstances I should be aware of when I come for my observation?

Me: Flying pans, underwear, and televisions.

Husband: What time would you like to meet to post-conference?

Me: How about between the minutes of 10:45 and 10:55 because that's all it really takes and that's all you really need.

It the kids threw-up on me, if I felt shitty and like laying on the couch all day and never getting dressed, there wasn't a box inked in red pen F by someone who does not see me though eyes of familiar love. This fact, up until this moment I would have considered to be of no affect on my emotional-psychological status, could potentially be the cause of my inability to CLOSE MY EYES for an extended period of time, in succession.

I know I am a good teacher, I know I am called to this profession, I know I am making an impact in my students lives, I know, I know, I know...but will he?

Three Days of Work

Last week, after a long discussion with my husband (translation, me talking lots and lots, him nodding his head in agreement every so often to give the perception that he is listening and really does care) I decided to cancel the Labor Day BBQ I had planned. This single act was so freeing for me. I simply didn't care. I just can't do it all, and I'm OK with that.

Who ever said wanting to be a teacher would be great? You only work 9-3, have 2 weeks off in the winter, 1 week in the Spring and all summer? Yeah right! Let's see, this week I think I put in a total of at least 50-60 hours, lesson planning, grading and staying after school for meetings....wasn't this supposed to be the perfect job for a working mother?

My school district is really great because they give us "Big Sister" mentors. My mentor came in, brought me a huge double expresso frapaccino, and assured me that being five minutes ahead of the kids is completely normal the first year of teaching. I keep telling myself, next year I'll have it all together...

On a happier note, I have completed my thesis. My grade has been posted and well, not to brag (Ok, I am bragging but it's my blog and I have that inordinate right) I successfully finished graduate school with straight A's. That's 4.0 baby! My professor said, and I quote, "Stacey—I rarely get to perform in the role of “cheerleader” for theses, but this is really excellent work. You’ve really owned your project, and have created an important critical investigation into the developing field of memoir. Your work is among the top 5 theses I’ve read, if not the best one." WHOA...after I picked myself off the floor, I did the dance of joy. IT IS FINISHED!