There are days and weeks when we feel as if every minute is a mountainous climb.
Hours where we long for some reprieve from the (seemingly) endless distress.
This past week has been one of those eternities for me.
I took a new assignment at work and am dumbfounded by the lack of respect for adult authority.
Whereas my previous duties included involvement with predominately pre-kindergarten through third graders, my new interactions are mostly with third through sixth graders.
And though I have experienced ill-mannered/challenging students in the past, I’m not accustomed to the level of rude and irrational behavior by so many in one space at one time.
There are about ten hardcore haranguers; nine, ten, and eleven-year-olds who not only think they know how to do my job better than I, they are about as defiant as the day is long.
And some, like the one who apologized to me—with a little boy grin on his face—mere minutes before I found him trying to open the cubby where I store my personal belongings, appear to be downright devious.
“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do,” one student said. This the same day he returned from a five-day suspension for disorderly, disrespectful, and dangerous behavior.
I have spent every spare minute of the past week pouring over my student roster in an effort to get to know the names and faces of the sixty-one students as soon as possible.
I have plotted and re-plotted seat assignments and pairing combinations in an effort to create some semblance of order, while meeting the good/bad/in-between behaviors.
The end of each day has found me thoroughly exhausted and several nights I’ve fallen asleep, sitting up in my chair.
“I love my bed,” I said to Warren yesterday morning, as I stretched my limbs after a long and restful sleep.
Our pillow-top mattress is perfect for my tired body, the overstuffed, plush pillows cradle my head, and I feel oh-so pampered between the layers of sheets in our king-sized bed.
I used to purchase inexpensive, low thread-count pieces, but after a family member gave me a spa set, I’ll never buy anything but 450-count or higher (if I can find those at an affordable rice…) Honestly, they not only last longer and wear better, I feel like I’m in my own luxury hotel room every night I climb into bed.
“I love my bed,” is a common phrase that escapes my lips in the early morning hours.
So much so, that, when Warren discovered a pair of “I love my bed” pajamas a few years ago, he bought them for me for Christmas.
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| Pajama bottoms |
Yep. For real.
Whereas I usually find myself taking pictures of numerous events throughout the week, I was afraid I wasn’t going to have a Happy Happens moment to share with you today.
Alas, it happened, just like the proverbial Shit Happens… Happy Happens…
They’re there, sometimes in unexpected places, and sometimes when we least expect them…
What about you? What Happy Moment(s) did you have this week? Share your story here!