Easily Excitable

I believe that most of life’s annoyances can be solved by one simple measure: waking up early. 

Now, I know that’s not the case for many: for some of you, life’s annoyances would actually begin with waking up early. That’s just not the case for me. 

I normally get moving and grooving early because God just didn’t put it in me to sleep late. 

That is especially the case during the school year. 

It is especially especially the case on the first day of school. 

By the time I get into the school, I try to have the hardest part of my day finished up: in the kids’ world, it’s 7:45, but in my world? 

It’s high noon. And it’s time to ride. 

This past week included a lot of planning. I dotted every T and crossed every I.

Or however you say it.

All I know is that I was ready. 

Or, I was ready until I wasn’t. 

Yesterday morning, at approximately 6:15, I started to get ready, only to come to the realization that I’d left my curling iron at school. And I had no hot styling tools at home.

So, my day at school began with a ten minute curling session in the bathroom. 

Should I care about my hair? Probably not. Worst case scenario, I look ugly going into school. 

It wouldn’t be the first time, and it surely won’t be the last

But, being that it was the first day and all, I figured I better at least start on the right foot. 

So much for being well-prepared. 

That was the inconvenience at 6:15 a.m.

Yet another disaster struck on my way to school. 

See, Thursday after school, I went and raided the beachball section of Walmart. Beachballs are elite classroom tools for getting the kids up and moving. 

But, when you work with high schoolers, particularly, 9th graders, particularly particularly 9th grade boys, you come in with the confidence that AT LEAST one beachball will get popped across the year. 

So I did my due diligence. 

Annnddddd then, I successfully forgot the beachballs at home. 

No worries, I thought to myself. I can get another at Walmart. 

Jokes on me, though, because there were no standard sized beachballs to be had.  

I’d bought them all the previous day. 

The only other option was a jumbo size. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. 

What I didn’t realize just how big ‘jumbo’ was. 

Now, I’m not great at math, but after all my calculations, the circumference of that jumbo beachball was stupid huge. 

So, what is a teacher to do? 

I blew it up sitting at my desk before school started. And why did I have time? 

BECAUSE I WOKE UP EARLY! 

I went across the hall and got a soccer ball pump from my across-the-hall neighbor.

I appreciated the generosity, but the pump didn’t work just right with the beachball. 

Therefore, I was back to inflating it the old fashioned way. 

All I could think was, “What if I pass out? What if they have to call an ambulance?”

My Momma would never recover. I would be the laughingstock of my family.  

My saving grace was that my first class was advisement, and being that my advisees are seniors, they’re used to my antics by now. 

Seeing me fallen out on the floor with my face covered up by a balloon would be just a regular Friday in their books. 

All the same, after eight minutes of deep inhales and exhales, we had ourselves a balloon. 

And the rest of the day? 

Smooth as a day chock full of teenagers could be. 

I am thoroughly exhausted because teacher tired is just a different kind of tired. My voice is a little hoarse, my legs are feeling it, and I ended the day with 25,000ish steps. 

It’s a good weekend in my book, and it was a great first day of school. 

I’m so excited for this year.

I was short on time to write this week (can’t imagine why!), so here’s how I’ll end a short writing. 

(The best kind of writing!)

If you’re a first year teacher, here’s the advice I have for you: 

• You won’t be your best this year. 
• Eat protein for breakfast and lunch. 
• Wear comfy shoes. 
• Get used to saying, “Well, it seemed like a good idea when I planned that.”
• And take heart in knowing that you were probably better prepared than a nine year veteran teacher named Emmie Kotara. 

It’ll never be without hiccups because that’s teaching, baby. Kinda list show biz, but smells a lot more like kids who just came from PE.

Hang in there because you just might end up loving this job and the kiddos that come along with it. I sure do. 

There’s nowhere I’d rather be, and nothing I’d prefer to be doing (career-wise…I mean, come on: another trip to Mexico wouldn’t be too terrible).

Year 9: here we go!