I figured out why, once in awhile, I like teaching this grade. It is because 12 is the age of mercurial change. Whereas yesterday my homeroom were just awful, today they were perfect. Of course, it didn't hurt that six of them were missing. But I'll take my victories any way I can get them.
This afternoon was the time for parent-teacher interviews, so I hung around in the background and did my work unobtrusively. One mother who came in was upset that her child's binder has been disorganized lately. I know that SuperTeacher has been talking to me about that issue this week, and I knew that she holds me responsible for the situation; what I liked was that she didn't stoop to criticize me in front of a parent - even though I know she wanted to shift the blame (I could just feel it in the air). Later she told me in private that it wasn't entirely my fault, as she could've done a lot more with the kids while I was here. This is something I've always secretly felt, but would never dare vocalize. I mean, there are some kids who really need attention in my classes, and a two-teacher situation is ideal for that sort of thing. But nevertheless, I thought that it was nice she would let me off the hook at all.
No really. I thought that was nice. Believe me, after ten weeks of her unique constructive criticism, I appreciated the kindness. A couple of days ago I was blah blah blahing on the phone to my mother, and she reminded me of something significant: this practicum has been pretty rough for SuperTeacher as well. I mean, sure, she's not the one who almost failed...but every time I've had a major problem, she's been concerned for me. She's lost sleep over me. She's spent way too much time pulling me up to code. So, following my mother's advice, I bought her a card at lunch. I also bought a gift certificate for the local bookstore; I'd wanted to buy her a copy of the one book every Canadian should read but there isn't a copy to be found in this town for love or money so the certificate will have to do. (In my head I hear a phantom Cranly grinning & saying, "If I buy you a gift certificate, it means that I hate you.")
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I was the only person who showed up at my yoga class this afternoon - and coincidentally enough, I paid up all the way through the middle of June, so this may set the pattern in the coming weeks. It was way awesome...my instructor Lorax showed me how to massage my feet to help my reoccurring cramps and we did a few low-impact cycles as well as some meditation.
I have the feeling that Lorax kept it low-impact on purpose so she could avoid seeing my embarrassing displays of yoga machismo. ("no...that doesn't hurt...") I hate being such a gimp at everything bendy, although Lorax maintains that sometimes being all stiff can actually help to focus your mind on your body. The theory is that if you're too flexible, it's easy for your mind to wander. As long as it's okay to be decrepit, I won't argue.
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3 years ago today: "Oh yeah. Like I need another reason to stick my nose in a lawnmower."
