I sit upon the slitted sheets, upon the slitted sheets I sit.

25 02 2008

A nice tongue twister for your Monday afternoon. While I am sitting on sheets, they are not slitted, and therefore, I’ve begun this post with a lie. A boldfaced lie. And I’m fine with that.

I find myself sitting on these sheets, which, as you might expect, are attached to my bed, in the bedroom, in my twelve-story concrete tower of boredom, in the loudest city on Earth, eight hours after I first left them to begin my first day back to a routine after seven days away from it. How’s that for a sentence?  Confusing and long, yes? And that’s just about how my day was.

First days back after vacation aren’t very easy. Everyone kind of dreads the return so everyone, in the sharing of their dread, is on the same page at least for that one day. But I wasn’t on vacation, per se, even though I was about as far away from 7th grade energy as I could get, and business was going on as usual during my absence. The return today was much like I imagine it would be to be thrown into the side of a moving bus and expected to grab on to the one tiny hand that’s hanging out of a window. I’ve never worked so hard to figure out what was going on with my thirty students than I did today and my head is still reeling from the catching up. Being away for a week is ridiculously hard for a teacher and I don’t plan on doing this kind of thing ever again, even for maternity leave. Push the child out and get right back in the classroom to make sure the kids haven’t strangled each other in my absence. Which they would because that’s what 7th graders do without even realizing they’re doing it. I think that’s what middle school teachers were hired to do. Like, “Um, hello, stop that. You’re killing Jimmy.” You’d be surprised how often I’ve said that.

To balance out the chaos of today, a third-grader read my palm after school. Looks like you’ll be getting at least seven more decades of blogging from me because after close inspection of both my right and left hands, she told me with certainty that I’ll be living to the ripe old age of 106.  That should give me plenty of time to pay off my student loans. She also said I’d be having 3 children: 2 girls and 1 boy. So when I said that thing above, that thing about the maternity leave, I know it’ll happen because my palm said so and SO DID A THIRD GRADER.

In the typing of the title for this post, I typed “shit” twice, which, you know, is the funny part of the tongue twister–you know, getting someone to say “shit.” But I was typing and I still typed “shit.” The point? I challenge you to come up with it.

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3 responses

25 02 2008
Jennie

I bet you’ll be back in the routine in no time.

26 02 2008
Susan

Third graders reading palms much better than an old hag with a crystal ball. Your fantastic teacher and like Jennie said you will be back in a routine in no time at all.

27 02 2008
ginacoggio

Aw, shucks. Thanks!

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