Triple Dose » thinking

it’s not what I would have imagined for myself

Asma — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 21:41:18 +0000

But I must admit, I’m beginning to enjoy the half-day Pre-Kindergarten gig. It’s so low key. The kids don’t always listen, but there isn’t a whole lot to do, so it’s okay if they don’t! And half the morning is taken up by snack time and bathroom breaks, so I’m just a glorified babysitter.

That gets to go home at 11:30 every day. This is the life.

too. tired. to. post.

Asma — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 03:07:32 +0000

This posting everyday is exhausting!!

weekdays are for working

Asma — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 02:54:36 +0000

One unfortunate consequence of working every day is that the house suffers. Laundry doesn’t get folded, the kitchen isn’t used with love but with impatience, and dust piles high on top of side tables, dressers, and nightstands.

I would but I could stay at home and tend to my domain.

a revelation

Asma — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 03:24:41 +0000

I used to think teachers of younger grades have it easier in some ways– the content is obviously easier, the kids think you know everything, and everything takes a long time to do, so you have less time to lesson plan for.

But while that may be true, the behavioural crap they have to put up with gives me a newfound respect for them. I personally have no patience for crying children, name-calling and yes, tattle-taling. After only one day in a grade 2 classroom, I want to run screaming.

Unfortunately, I’ve already (pre)-committed to another day of chaos. God help me.

a busy day off

Asma — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 03:32:49 +0000

Even though I didn’t go to work today, I still feel exhausted. So much to do, so little time!

And now I’m bracing myself for a week of work. At least I know which schools I’m going to and when. My mind is trained– I wake up at 6:30am every weekday morning, waiting for that phone call. I hate that phone call, but when it comes, I diligently get out of bed and prepare for work.

I guess it’s no different than any other job.

wrong, oh so wrong

Asma — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 01:04:28 +0000

I was wrong. So so WRONG.

At least I admit it.

I’ll say it again– I was totally and completely wrong.

Coming into this NaBloPoMo challenge, I WRONGLY assumed that it would be easy. My life is interesting, right? And if it isn’t, just put some filler material and it’ll all be ok. Right?

Wrong.

Along the way, the panic of having to post every single day makes even the thought of updating or working on your site completely repulsive.

(Also, I must admit, I’ve become addicted to the new Facebook app “Farmville”. Even if I try to explain the appeal, I couldn’t. In theory, it’s a waste of time– you grow stuff and you add neighbours and advance levels because of it, but there’s no direct competition. You couldn’t wipe our your neighbour in any way or take land away from others by expanding your land. It’s just creating your own farm and.. decorating it. All I can think about is whether my crops are ready to be harvested, because we wouldn’t want them to wither away and die before they’re harvested, no! This addiction, it’ll pass. I promise?)

it’s flattering, really

Asma — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 21:14:59 +0000

To date, I’ve had two somewhat distant friends message me since I’ve been married, totally out of the blue, to tell me that they dreamed I was pregnant. And not that I mind or anything, quite the opposite, I love the idea of having a baby. I’ve been reading pregnancy magazines and mommy blogs since before I even got engaged. Naturally, now that I’m married, it’s fun to think that it’s an actual possibility.

But dude, we just got married 4 months ago. It would be nice to have some more time before I start feeling the pressure of people waiting until I make that announcement.

someone should tell them it’s rude to stare

Asma — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 20:16:03 +0000

The students trickle in and sit quietly at their desks. They stare at me, standing at the front of the class. I stare back. I notice the bright purple wall at the back and the Far Side poster on the side, advertising their calendars of 2002. There’s a Simpsons poster right beside it with all the characters that have ever appeared on the show. There are so many, they fill up the poster.

More students are now staring at me looking around the class. I suppose I should say something but the more time that has passed, the more awkward it’s become. Deep breath. I’m the teacher here, I’m in control, even if it’s not my regular class.

But really, I have nothing to say. I have nothing to for them to do and their teacher left nothing assigned. I’m loathe to tell them they can waste their time but what choice do I have?

Quick, is there a game I can play with them? They’re too old for cheesy games, they’ll laugh if I suggest it. At least time is passing by– that’s good, right?

No. Part of my job is to talk.

“Good morning, my name is Ms. Teebi…”