A New Respect

I'm a teacher. I try to be at school everyday because I am responsible for the knowledge my students are required to gain throughout their year in second grade. However, just like everyone else, I occasionally get sick enough to have to stay home from work. And every once in a while, I just need a "mental health" day. But the concern of every good teacher is what a substitute will do with their class (think back to a class you had on a day when there was a sub - movies, talking, playing, no work, etc). Because I am a very organized person in general, my sub lesson plans are very detailed, often even down to the words I want the sub to say to explain a concept to my students. However, I never really imagined what it would be like for a substitute to walk into a classroom of students and be expected to teach, regardless of how well planned the lesson - I will admit that I have frequently been irritated with my substitutes for not getting done what I've left for them to do.
On Tuesday and Thursday, I was a substitute for one of my co-teachers for her summer school class. It was 4th grade (I've never taught anything but 2nd) and it was reading (I do teach this, just at a lower level). When I arrived, I found very detailed lesson plans which she had gone over with me on the phone the night before, but I still found I was very nervous when the students walked into the classroom and often felt like they were listening to nothing I had to say - a couple of times I asked "Is this how you act for Mrs. W?" They replied no. On Tuesday, it was all I could do to make it to the end of the day, wondering if this was really worth the $20/hour I was getting paid. Thursday morning was fabulous but that afternoon I wanted to pull my hair out.
Now that it is over, I've decided that it was worth the $20/hour - 2 days, 8 hours a day...but I have definitely developed a new respect for substitutes. In the future, when I have a sub, I will be much more understanding if they don't get everything done.

10 inches off

Last weekend I decided to cut my hair off. 10 inches to be exact.

Friday I was talking to some coworkers at lunch about donating hair to Locks of Love to make wigs for children sick with cancer or other diseases that cause them to lose their hair. I have donated my hair twice before (in 2004 and 2006 - April of both years) so I decided it was time to do it again. It has to be at least 10 inches and I had a least that much. I don't get my hair cut very often, so I had to find a salon to use. A friend said she had found a place to do it for free since she was donating it. I got out the phone book and started calling different salons, explaining what I was doing and asking if they would be willing to cut my hair for free or for a discounted price. I found a lady at Hightower Studios in Las Colinas that offered to do it for free! Yay!

She cut it a little shorter than I had hoped, but in about 6 weeks, it will be just about where I wanted it. Just in time for summer. Now all I have to do is send it off...

If you are interested in learning more about donating hair, go to www.locksoflove.org.

Change of Perspective

Last Wednesday, I woke up having a bad day. I'm not sure why, but I woke up royally ticked. As the hours passed, I didn't start to feel better, I got angrier and angrier until I felt like I would bust. Then I got a change of perspective. And not in a way I would have ever expected.
My friend Emily had just closed on her house and was so excited to have bought her first home. We decided to head somewhere for dinner to celebrate. As we were heading toward the restaurant, we came upon some flashing lights and changed lanes to go around whatever had happened. Just as we were pulling up to the scene, a second cop car arrived - no sirens, just flashing lights - to an accident scene so fresh that streets hadn't yet been blocked.
Just moments before, there had been a horrific car wreck - two cars, head on (though you couldn't tell by the scene we saw) one on top of the other, but what ripped my heart from my chest was the closer we got, the more of the scene we could see...I saw shoes...small shoes...and then I saw a girl...just lying in the street, right beneath the passenger door of the bottom car. Then we saw a woman, back behind the wreck, lying on the sidewalk. There was no question in my mind - they were both dead.

My perspective changed...My anger dissipated as we sat next to the scene waiting for the light to change so we could continue on, though no longer hungry. Seconds, minutes can make such a huge difference. Just a few minutes faster and that could have been Emily and I - in that moment I realized my anger was unfounded. I had no reason to be angry and that I have the ability to choose not to be.
By Friday, many of the missing pieces had been filled in through news stories about what happened. My heart broke the moment I saw those shoes and it continues to break for that mom and her daughter and the family and friends that will miss them so much.

http://cbs11tv.com/local/seizure.crash.Irving.2.686458.html