Skip to main content

first date

I have been dating Shaun for almost 11 years now. It has been a long time since I have had a first date.
The first few days of school are as close as I get ( or want to get). It is like a week of 150 first dates. It is an odd comparison I know, and no bad jokes about "dating" my students please... ( ick and I want to keep my job). Bare with me and I'll try to make the connection.
They stumble in on that first day. We are all shiny and new and wanting to impress. There is an awkward eagerness( even from the teacher). Some of the kids ( just like some first dates) are trying too hard to impress, a few......the ones sleeping are not trying hard enough ( actually I think they might be trying to appear like they are not trying.) Some are too wrapped up in themselves to care what I have to say. Others are just trying to see how far they can get. (use the metaphor here...not literally of course).
For the most part we are on our best behavior. All teachers are really good teachers the first week. We don't sit down or show movies or "wing it" just yet. We haven't fallen behind on grades and our room is clean. Most of the students show up on time, with supplies ( even better than flowers!) and gasp...even their homework. The conversation flows awkwardly. The class is still getting to know each other and only a few are confident enough to join in discussion. We are still pulling teeth. In a few weeks I will not be able to shut them up. We will get comfortable. Our guards will go down. The need to impress has worn off. We will run out of new clothes and new tricks and our honeymoon will be over. Issues and conflict will arise, but so will the real business of learning.
I would kind of like to stay here for a bit. While we are all still on our best behavior. But it doesn's work that way. Just like I can't refuse any 2nd or 3rd or 100th dates with these kids. They are mine for better or worse. At least until May.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Either/Or

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev

me too

I used to never question God. It was just part of the way things were. Just like I believed in Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. And eventually I grew up and started to wonder. I always believed, But occasionally I started to wonder if he was always good. If he really loved me. Singular me rather than an all inclusive version. That he was paying attention. That my prayers mattered.` And I didn’t know that I should play by the rules. That questioning these outloud things in a Bible study or Sunday School class Will get you bumped to the top of the prayer list. Because I know. But sometimes I wonder. And I didn’t need their scripture memory verses or their books or their prayers. (but I guess prayers never hurt) And I was just hoping for someone else to say “me too”. And, Jason Boyett’s book, O Me of Little Faith Is one great big “me too” And like most books I like he asks a whole lot more questions than he answers. Hard ones. Ones without real answers. Ones that make me wa

imaginary friends

Recently I had a friend disappoint me. I didn’t tell them. And I didn’t write about it when it happened. Instead I seethed a little and got angrier and slightly resentful and finally dumped it on my husband. (who had some great advice that will come later) And. I have hesitated to write this piece because a lot of my real life friends read this. Maybe even the one I’m writing about. Maybe not. Actually I’m not really sure. And to be honest the best pace to work this out would be with them. Just them. And not on line. But. It’s not really about them. It’s more about me. And I don’t think there is so much to work out anyways. So, if you are my real life friend and are reading this and wondering, hesitantly or fearfully if this is about you. It might be. But it probably isn’t. And again. Even if it is. It’s not REALLY about you. And if it isn’t. It could be. If we have been friends for more than five minutes, we have probably had a moment like this. So, back to me venting to my husband.