In the last two days I got three new kids. One of them was flagged as probably needing a referral for possible special ed services, another probably needs to be referred for speech services, and the third doesn’t speak any English, acts as if rules don’t apply, and is both independent (yay) and impulsive (sigh). All three of them are very cute and sweet, however, so they will fit in nicely with all my other cute, sweet kids.
I feel like I’m already behind. I’ve been thinking about new teachers, and how they work really long hours, and how I….um, don’t. Partly it’s because I don’t really need to, as an experienced teacher, part of it is because I want time for myself and for my family, and part of it is because I’m just so damn tired. My migraines have not been great lately, and my allergies are now knocking me flat. I can’t stand the idea of missing school so early in the year, but maybe I will have to. It’s probably not the greatest to have a teacher who feels (and perhaps acts) like she is far, far underwater.
However, today after the kindergartners came out, a few kids made a circle holding hands and started playing a game where they’d jump in the air and crash on the ground, still holding hands. They were getting rough and pulling each other’s arms, so I showed them how to play Ring Around a Rosie. Seriously, you’d think that none of them have ever played it before. Actually, probably none of them ever have. Each time we played more of my students and more of the kindergartners joined in. I showed them how to play it without pulling or crashing into anyone when we all…fall…DOWN! It was kind of wonderful, watching the children so happy about such a simple old game. I kept singing, and kept ringing around that rosie, even though I was losing my voice, and getting really tired.
Also on a nice note, Apple came over to hug me at recess. About 8 times. “Mrs. X!” she would exclaim with joy, and wrap her arms around me. She showed me how she can now count to five, which was great. (Her new teacher is thinking about referring her to special ed, which I was going to do but I dropped the ball. I’ll give her my documentation.) Squash came over, and pointed out another boy from our class last year. “Yeah,” I said, grinning, “but I don’t think he loves me anymore.” Squash said, “I still love you, Mrs. X!” Then he hugged me.
So I’m tired and feel like death warmed over, but I do feel loved.