"Not every day can be a gem," is what I remember one of my friends sagely remarking after a less-than-stellar night out at Ocean City for senior week way back in '06. I've taken that to heart over the past few years, and I've realized that even my bad days aren't really that bad, and I blow them out of proportion.
So even if last Monday wasn't actually a bad day by other people's standards, it was certainly for me.
I mean, Mondays suck anyway. That's always been the case. No one likes them, they're awful, they should be outlawed. End of story. And I've never believed this more than now, when my alarm clock starts its wretched ringing at 5:38 AM.
So the day, being a Monday, started off on a bad foot anyways.
Frazzled, on account of having a severe case of the Mondays, I ended up barely making the bus on time (thus sparing myself the $70 cab fare to Agua Fria - and yes, that's how far it is from Tempe), but in the process managed to lose my keys.
Maybe it was the coffee I guzzled on the way out to Avondale, or maybe it was my case of the Mondays sneaking up on my again, or maybe it was the fact that I was already over-stressed at this point, but I FREAKED out.
I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't focus on my lesson. And it showed. I switched from teaching reading to writing last Monday, and writing is TOUGH to teach. Now, I always thought that reading and writing go hand-in-hand. Like Starsky and Hutch or Donny and Marie or Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. But to my kids, they don't. Writing involves the creative thinking skills that just aren't stressed in underprivileged schools, and my kids really didn't enjoy writing.
So, at first, I didn't enjoy teaching it, and my lesson sort of flopped. (There will be a lot more to come about my struggles with the writing objectives, but it gets a lot better!)
I was so excited for the lesson to be over, and it showed. My thoughts were scattered, I couldn't answer basic questions, my kids were acting up a bit because they were confused, it just wasn't going well.
But then I decided, whoa, Peter, watch out. I had a TON to do that night; I couldn't let all of this get to me. 2 lesson plans AND Arizona Defensive Driving School lay in front of me, although none of those would be possible without my keys.
First thing's first: I wanted to avoid another encounter with Mr. Teacher-Cop at all costs, so I called the Yarnell Justice Court (oh, it's very real) and spoke to my new best friend (aka the clerk there) and we bonded over my famous name and OF COURSE she could grant me an extension on my traffic school completion and didn't I just have the most charming accent? (I throw in a lot of "y'all"s when I speak with older women, and I charm the pants of them)
Second: keys. Deep breaths. Where are they? Not in my lunch box. Yes, teachers carry around lunch boxes. Not in my classroom, or in my training rooms. Think. The bus? In reality, I was pretty sure they were on the bus all day, but I just couldn't help thinking of all the million places where they MIGHT (but in reality definitely WOULDN'T be - like a bar in Scottsdale or the bottom of a well or they were swept away in a sandstorm, etc.) be.
4:10 rolls around, and I run to the bus. Of course, there they were, sitting exactly where I stupidly left them. Deep breaths.
I focus during the bus ride on starting my lesson plans that are due that night, and then immediately start traffic school when I get back to ASU.
Arizona Defensive Driving School is all the worst parts of drivers' ed without an amusing alcoholic for an instructor to make things go by a little better. Literally, the first question on the test was:
1. What state's laws were discussed in this chapter?
A. Texas
B. Nevada
C. Arizona (DING DING DING - correct answer)
And there was a chapter entitled "Murder and Suicide on the Freeway" which I thought would be an entertaining true crime read in the vein of The Monster of Florence, but was just all about drunk driving. Bor-ing. Although I will never ever do that because I don't want crazy old Joe Arpaio to send me to Tent City, Arizona's prison for driving deadbeats located in the middle of the desert, actually quite conveniently close to Agua Fria.
I passed DDS by taking copious notes.*
*I actually passed DDS by copying-and-pasting and then waiting for the 4 hour and 30 minute clock to run down.
I used this time to lesson plan, which was actually a relaxing respite from DDS, if that could even be possible. AND I even got to go to McDonald's with my friend Amy and get a snack size McFlurry from the Dollar Menu, which made everything better.
11 PM rolled around, and I was done. My keys had been found, my driving school was completed (and I got a nifty certificate to boot), and yes, I had to teaching writing the next day, and yes, it was tough, but I could start over.
Tuesday was a new day.
Not every day is a gem, but if I take things one step at a time, and remember to breathe, things usually work out.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
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