I am currently in Columbus, Georgia for the annual School of the Americas/WHINSEC vigil and protest.
While I brave the loooong bus ride and being in charge of six teenagers for three days, a few generous souls will keep you entertained!
Today, we have the wonderful Amy, of Just a Titch, who has fabulous taste in television, is genuine and sweet and you should be her friend, too. Plus, she is a middle-school teacher and has hilarious stories to share. See?
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Hi, there! If you've been reading along with Ashley's lovely blog over the past few months, than you know that she's recently started working at a school. I've sympathized along with her as she's tried to balance work AND all of the fun stuff in life because I'm an 8th grade teacher. I know the joy and the challenges of working with students, and how stressful it all can be.
When I get stressed, I tend to be frazzled. During my first year of teaching, it was exceptionally bad. I don't really know how to describe your first year of teaching, but basically it's like learning to tap dance, ice skate, juggle knives and swallow fire all at once, while 13 year olds laugh and point. I started teaching as an intern, meaning that I went to work allll day and then went to class from 5-10 pm. EVERY DAY. On weekends, I lesson planned, cried and tried to maintain some sort of relationship with those that I love.
Anyways, during one particularly rough day in my fifth week of teaching, I was perched on a stool, reading out loud. If I'm being honest, I have to admit that I was reading in character, you know: with VOICES and such. The kids were loving it. And honestly, I thought I was doing a great job. I thought to myself, "You know, maybe this teaching thing isn't so bad! You're doing great!"
Just as I was mentally patting myself on the back, the fire alarm went off. Yes, it was my first fire drill, but moving kids outside couldn't be too bad, could it? You wouldn't think so.
Except that during the reading, I'd tucked the heels of my shoes around the rungs of my stool, meaning that I was basically hooked onto my stool. The alarm startled me, so I forgot to unhook my shoes. Before I knew what was happening, the stool was falling forward and taking me with it! My entire body pitched forward, slamming into the ground.
Did I mention that I was wearing a dress?
My entire class got a view of my underwear AND got to see me fall face first into the floor and START CRYING, out of pain of body and pain of pride. Plus, I still had to collect my attendance sheets and herd 33 students outside, while they LAUGHED HYSTERICALLY.
I am pretty sure that they will never, ever forget that fire drill. And neither will I.