THANKSGIVING BREAK

I spent the Thanksgiving Break with my wife’s family, and I finally experienced a pause in the constant flow of school thoughts. I watched football while my wife went shopping with the girls, and instead of thinking about Ryden, I was thinking about Detroit, who were bound to lose because they always lost on Thanksgiving.

As dismal as last week was, it was still a improvement. But for anyone who might walk into my class, it was chaos.

On the last day before break I had a cupcake party for all the kids who had earned enough stickers over the month. The party was virtually for the whole clas even thought most did not deserve it.  I even let the bad kids come if they acted nice to me the day of the party. It was one of the many teacher sins that I committed just to keep a semblance of sanity.  My kids were smart, they knew the tricks, but Gracyn pushed me too far. Gracyn had spent most of the day in the CHOICE room, and he was excused to my room right at the end of the day. Because he broke the cardinal sin of being mean to the teacher on my party day, I refused to give him the coveted cupcake, and tears trickled down as he left the classroom.

I was impressed; I drew a line, and he backed down. When I told him no, I expected Gracyn to push past me, pick up the tray of leftover cupcakes, and then run away from me around the room, simultaneously stuffing crumbs in his mouth. Then, half a dozen kids would shout to Gracyn for cupcakes as he would gleefully throw the cupcake chunks, over my head, to their outstretched hands as I, now the enraged teacher, would try to corner him, just like always. I would give up because the bell would ring and then I would dismiss the kids in a frenzy because, not only had they received extra cupcakes, but they also saw a great show. Then I would spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the smeared icing and cupcake bits crushed into the rug, too embarrassed to leave any of it for the custodians.

But this time, there was no mess, at least not one that was visibly smeared on the floor.

By now, my wife was very pregnant, and my life was going to change once again. I was counting on my newest daughter’s arrival to make me happy again. If family concerns took the forefront, then I would have to push school anxiety to the side. I fantasized about staying at home with them instead of working. I also worried that my school problems would make me a bad dad. Instead of rocking her to sleep, maybe I would have to stare at laptop screen, trying to perfect a lesson plan that was bound to fail anyway.  Maybe with a new daughter, I would reclaim my role as the provider, thinking “who cares that work sucks, that’s life. I have a family to feed.” It was pleasant thinking about how my life would change. But no matter what perspective I constructed, Monday was still coming; nothing could ever stop that.