Road Kill

I would like to tell you about the past two weeks of my life. Now as some of you may realize school started two weeks ago. Usually, I will not work the first week of school because I like to take that time to prepare for the madness that will ensue when I do finally pick up a substitute job. That and the first week is just full of craziness that I would do better to avoid.

But this year was different. The school I was at last year actually asked me to come back at the beginning of the year to take over a class for a woman who was retiring later this year. The thing is they couldn’t hire me for the class because the woman was still there just taking every single vacation day that she collected over the last 40 years. So I was going to get to be the teacher, with all of its responsibilities, with none of the benefits. To add just a little more fun, let’s make it a pre k class.

Oh yes, can you imagine me in a pre k class. Just take a moment to picture it in your head. Are you seeing fires being started? Kids running amok? Four year olds rising up in mutiny and taking over the country? That’s what I saw running though my head.

Now I want you to imagine what teaching a pre k class is like. To do that, I am going to paint a mental picture for you. Yes, goddammit I am using metaphors, just close your eyes and get the fuck over it.

Picture yourself standing in the middle of a long country road in the middle of no where. The sun is shining. The wind is blowing. You are surrounded on all sides by fields of beautiful flowers. Life is good. And then you get hit by a fucking Mack truck. Granted it might be the most adorable Mack truck in the world, but it’s still a fucking Mack truck.

I have never hurt so badly in my life. My back ached so bad that when I got home I physically could not get off the couch for three hours. And it’s not just the running after the kids that’s the problem. It’s the having to open their milk, and their cereal, and the making sure they don’t fall while trying to walk. And the crying. Oh dear god, the crying. I actually had to wring my shirt out during nap time. I’m talking hours and hours of crying.

And that’s not to mention the girl who came to school in diapers because she is not potty trained. Yeah, I didn’t sign up for diaper changing. That is waaaaaaay beyond my pay grade.

It’s only been two weeks and I’ve already taken to hiding in the bathroom from time to time. But you know what? The other day we made paper plate monkey and it was about the cutest fucking thing ever. But making it incredibly cute does not make it any less of a Mack truck.

Comments

[CarrieAnn]

I'm really disappointed that you did not post a picture of your paper plate monkey. I might have been inspired to make your own. And I loved your analogy of the field and the mack truck. I was actually pretty surprised when it hit me, too.

[CarrieAnn]

Ooops...."my" own, not "your" own. I should learn to proofread.