It has been so exciting in our household lately. So exciting, in fact, that I have been in bed no later than 9:30pm for the past week and a half. Well, I take that back. I was up until 1am last Saturday night talking with Lindsey and CJ who came over for a visit. But other than that, I’ve been going to bed at insanely early hours.
The early bedtime was because, last week? I was a fifth grade teacher. All week long. And those fifth graders? Kicked my butt. Big time. Not only the fifth graders, but just having to conform with someone else’s schedule was exhausting. I hadn’t worked a full week in 2 years. Yes, two whole years. But, I survived, and so did the fifth graders. No one died or went missing. Only one shed some tears, and two other ones spouted a little bit of blood (two boys fell down on the pavement while playing basketball. Fifth grade boys play rough!). So all in all, it was a good week. But I want you to do something for me. Think back to when you were in fifth grade. Do you remember anything about it? Your teacher? Your friends?
It was 1994-1995. I don’t remember my teacher’s name, but I remember her being much older than any of the other teachers I had previously had. I was on the school’s dance team, and my best friend’s name was Aimee. I liked listening to music (Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston) and having sleep overs. My mom had passed away in 1993, and I was just getting to where I could handle it a little better. And then my dad died at the very end of my fifth grade year. I remember my class gave me a big teddy bear with a red ribbon around it’s neck and a card that they had all signed. I remember walking into class for the first time after he had died, and thinking “you’ve done this one time before, you can do it again”. And then I remember thinking that atleast I wouldn’t have to do it ever again, because now both of my paretns were gone. But then I immediately felt bad for thinking that, even though it was the truth. I knew what their faces would look like already. The teacher would have misty eyes and a look on her face that said “you poor thing”. The kids would look somber, but they wouldn’t make eye contact. Who could blame them? But I hated it. I hated people feeling sorry for me. I hated that I had to keep telling everyone that I was fine. I hated that I had to see the counselor 3 times a week and “talk through my emotions ” and hear that “it really is okay to cry”. I hated that my friends no longer knew what to say to me, or knew how to act around me. I felt like an alien, like an outsider. And most of all, I felt like it wasn’t fair. But I made it through the last of my fifth grade year, and I moved away. I never saw those kids or those teachers again. But I got to start all over in a new place where no one knew about my parents. No one knew that I was “that girl”. That girl with the tragic life story to tell, and she was only 11 years old. Of course they all soon found out, but somehow it was easier with the new people.
Wow, what a way to brighten up a Thursday! And that is so not where I was going with this. I don’t know what happened up there, but I guess I wont delete it even though that is so far off from the direction I was going. What I wanted to tell y’all was how cliquey these fifth graders were and how materialistic they were. I don’t remember school being like that until after 6th grade. Was your fifth grade class like that? I just remember being friends with everybody, and still being so naive. Not these kids! And that? Scares the bejeezus out of me! At the rate it’s going, Aeralyn will be demanding brand name clothes and talking about who is the most popular girl in class by third grade! And that thought is just too much for me to handle.
Somebody send some Xanax. And a Zoloft because apparently I’m in a depressed mood without even realizing it today.
OHMYGOODNESS!! I almost forgot to tell you about how CJ has probably caused my child brain injury for life! I already mentioned that CJ and Lindsey came over last Saturday. Well, we decided to play the Wii for a little bit. CJ wanted to play boxing, so we hooked her up and let her go. Well, Aeralyn happened to be walking in the wrong place at the wrong time, and CJ happened to be really in to her boxing match, and before we knew it “CRACK!” is what we heard, follwed by the wails of my little punkin’. Yes, CJ punched my child in the back of the head. But really, it sounded much worse than what it really was because the CRACK that we heard was actually CJ’s rings hitting the controller and NOT Aeralyn’s skull fracturing. Whew! What a relief. She was fine in a matter of minutes and didn’t even have a goose-egg to show for it. CJ on the other hand may need some extensive therapy and medication. On second thought, send that Xanax to her instead.
