Things About Teaching

I have been subbing this whole week, which is good, since that means that I might be able to pay my bills next month, maybe. The cool thing about being a substitute teacher is that there is a  7/12 chance that I will be in one of my kid's or one of my not-kid's classrooms. This is met with any imaginable level of enthusiasm, ranging from "oh noooo (groan)" to high-fives in the doorway. Lucky for my self-esteem it's usually a happy mix of the two. Yesterday I told one of my (not) kids that I would take their test for them if they gave me one of their green chocolate chip cookies. I lied. But I got a cookie, so all-in-all, the breach in trust was worth it. I also recruited them to help write some stories for me, but since it was a English/Language Arts class, it seemed TOTALLY justifiable.

Today I got to teach a weightlifting class, which involved a couple of the "experienced" lifters from the senior class demonstrating their impressive muscles to the newbies. And I did 3 incline sit ups, which means I don't have to work out again, forever. Then in a history class that isn't really history but Current World Problems, we got to research conspiracy theories. The class was evenly divided between I-don't-give-a-crappers and Oh-my-gosh-did-you-know-Obama-is-actually-a-lizardman-alienners. I definitely lean more toward the lizard man side so I chose to ignore the crappers and read all about how Madonna and John Cusack are actually vampires. I am good at teaching this stuff. Also: did you know that Russia made their own Men In Black, but it's a documentary and therefore TOTALLY VERIFIABLE FACT?!?!?!? Aliens are real, y'all, and they are here.

Tomorrow I am back in SPED, and while I am dreading the poop fingers, I am relieved to be escaping the incline sit ups. I am not a fan of teaching any grade level of math, which is suddenly the only thing we do in SPED, apparently. So I am lobbying hard for a reassignment to Middle School, where the cookies are accessible and source-able (this is critical to avoid lethal exposure to all fecally communicated diseases).

The coolest thing about teaching at this school is that I live next door. This makes going home for lunch, a.k.a a nap, or a coke, or a handful of ibuprofen, super doable. It also means that I can look out almost any given window and see my house, and the bad dogs running around in the driveway, or the Mormon Missionaries that are knocking forlornly on my non-responsive door. The latter is unfortunate, since I have some serious raking projects in my yard that I could use some help with... they're always asking if there's anything they can do. I feel bad for never having anything, and then when I do, I am not even there to offer them reprieve from their boredom.

In spite of the obvious perks (?), all of this subbing has really cramped the escapist plans that I have been making since I got off of the prom bus Sunday at 3:27 AM. I was able to rush to town for a meeting last night, with grandiose plans after for green beers and shots of Jameson, but found myself home in bed by 9:30 like a good, responsible teacher. Working has also cut into my writing time, which means that the 37 stories I have to write this month will all be hammered out in about 1.5 days. To my editor (if I had one): I apologize preemptively. To the rest of you, if you want to hang out and drink wine and help me write 37 articles, not necessarily about Jesus or dinosaurs, hit me up. I will be awake all night.

Things That Make Me Mad

WHAT?

<<<This is how I left the house yesterday afternoon. Apparently, when I forget to eat, I also forget to check my feet when I slid a random pair of flip flops on to run errands. Let me explain this: I have been sick for a week or so, kind of running-a-feverish, achy-all-over, not-sure-why kind of sick. One of the most awesome side effects of this bug or whatever it is, is that I've had almost no appetite. I would love to brag about how this has revealed itself in a new svelte figure, but for now I will be happy with the 3 lbs I have lost, mostly due to copious amounts of fluid loss through sweat. Anyway, since I haven't been feeling good, haven't been eating right, I have had a few run ins with low blood sugar and general retardation. Two days ago I poured a scoop of dog food right into the garbage can instead of into the bowl of the innocently waiting cocker spaniel right next to it. I actually popped the lid on the trash can open and poured in a perfectly good scoop of perfectly expensive, boutique kibble. The worst part about this incident was that my Concerned Husband was standing right there to witness it, so it wasn't like I could pretend it didn't happen or something. It was awkward. But he got an even better laugh when we pulled up to the post office yesterday and I realized my footwear faux pax. Clingly fiercly to my ever dwindling supply of pride, I refused to go into the post office, which meant he had to ship my packages, thereby witnessing the atrocious cost of postage that I, like a sucker, insist on paying to ship Scentsy and other goodies to family members. He promptly informed me that I had just shipped myself out of a prime rib dinner that night. Dangit. I could have really used that protein. For the record, Timber's East  here in Bend has Prime Rib on Thursday nights for $9.95, and it's delicious. Look for a rave review of their happy hour in my upcoming Happy Hour Report. 

One of the things that keeps me functioning up to the level of an average 5th grader on days that I am not sick is my regular consumption of multi vitamins. I noticed when I ran out of supplements for two weeks that I got way dumber. I take prenatal vitamins, and do quite well on the ones that Costco has. I don't remember the brand but I am too lazy to run downstairs and look. I have been told by several doctors that most women of childbearing age (can't I be done with that now?) should be taking prenatals. I know I like how I feel when I am taking them, but it doesn't help with the weird guilt/shame ordeal every time I have to buy them. I know I am not pregnant. My man knows I am not pregnant. But I assume that every stranger that sees me in possession of a gallon sized bottle of prenatal vitamins, along with my burgeoning, bloated mid-section, smiles in knowing approval. No! I am not glowing. Stop it! The poor cashier at Costco can't even get out a "how are you today?" before I am blurting: "mostdoctorssaythatallwomenofchildbearingageshouldtakethesevitamins!!!!" defensively. Awkward. Should I go on to explain that I am not pregnant? Do they wonder? Oh lord, I am making Josh get them next time. This is worse than Tampons. At least with Tampons everyone KNOWS you are not pregnant. Maybe next time I will buy both at the same time. That will confuse them. 

So about things that make me mad, in addition to wearing a flip flop combination in public that even embarrassed Aspen, having to publicly disavow my gestational status, and stabbing myself under the fingernail with a staple hiding in my purse, I had to get up this morning Extra Early (which is a severe punishment for anyone who knows me) to take Nattie to her sports physical to get her into Cross Country today. After spending an hour and a half talking about Gardasil and Puberty and Freezing off Warts, I delivered her proudly back to middle school with her paperwork, only to be told I missed the registration window and there was no way she was running Cross Country. But she was gone with her dad all summer! This was the soonest physical she could get! I couldn't turn in the paperwork without a physical! She ran last year! All of my cries fell on the mean, deaf ears of cranky, third-day-of-school office staff who were elated to have a power trip over an unsuspecting, hypoglycemic mother. I could have cried. I probably should have. Or pulled out my gallon of prenatal vitamins and popped a couple like anti-anxiety meds. Dangit. Why didn't I think of that earlier? I left a very tense-sounding message for the Cross Country coach, begging for mercy and drawing on the affection that all of the coaches have for my little running star. But if they remain staunch, I might be calling for signatures on a petition to overthrow the office staff at PBMS. In the meantime, I wallow in the guilt of bad motherhood, knowing I should have tried to squeeze a physical into the three days she was here in July, or tried harder or done SOMETHING about it. I need a vitamin.