Observation(al) Humor
Because having report cards go home, a full moon, excitement over the upcoming spring break and two days of snow and temps that unseasonably cold wasn't enough, I got observed today for the last time this school year.
As I pulled out of the garage and saw the full moon shining, I was rest assured of three things: death, taxes, and certainty we would be squirrely. (Anyone else feel like they can write a novel on the shenanigans that happen those unfortunate days we work and there's a full moon?)
On a good day, I don't like being observed. It has nothing to do with my principal, I just don't like it. Period. You know those people who have testing anxiety? I have observational anxiety.
For your entertainment, let me give you a rundown of how my day went:
2:00 a.m.
It's pitch black and I awaken from a nightmare. About the observation today. One that involved my room being invaded by a SWAT team carrying body shields and wearing camo on their faces. (I think I may have seen an Army ad before I went to bed.) They came in through my window and the door between my room and my next door neighbor's.
Needless to say, it was unsettling.
6:15 a.m.
Sit down at my desk. Begin to print report cards to find server is down. Realize I can't print my lesson plan. Pray for divine intervention.
7:30 a.m.
After printing out my eight page lesson plan I can no longer find it. Reprint. All but staple it to my hand.
10:00 a.m.
Principal walks in and the lesson begins. I am reviewing the letter K and we are identifying the /k/ sound at the beginning and end of words. Because we heard a story about sharks, we make shark fins to swim infront of our bodies when hear /k/ at the beginning. Everything is going swimmingly until I see Precious up front. Not content to move a fin infront, Precious begins to swim back and forth at the front of my rugs.
10:15 a.m.
I realized mid-sentence I am out of sequence. I had meant to start by reading a book and now my lesson is all out of sequence. I sheepishly admit this to the principal who just laughs and says he couldn't tell. He was just enjoying the lesson.
10:30 a.m.
Back on track. After Precious infoms me that they were a machine and in sleep mode. We take a movement break where one child proceeds to show the principal how skilled they are at galloping.
11:00 a.m.
Principal leaves and I am no longer in super stress mode. I am able to form coherent thoughts again.
9:00 p.m.
Laugh about the observation. Thank the Lord my principal is understanding.
As I pulled out of the garage and saw the full moon shining, I was rest assured of three things: death, taxes, and certainty we would be squirrely. (Anyone else feel like they can write a novel on the shenanigans that happen those unfortunate days we work and there's a full moon?)
On a good day, I don't like being observed. It has nothing to do with my principal, I just don't like it. Period. You know those people who have testing anxiety? I have observational anxiety.
For your entertainment, let me give you a rundown of how my day went:
2:00 a.m.
It's pitch black and I awaken from a nightmare. About the observation today. One that involved my room being invaded by a SWAT team carrying body shields and wearing camo on their faces. (I think I may have seen an Army ad before I went to bed.) They came in through my window and the door between my room and my next door neighbor's.
Needless to say, it was unsettling.
6:15 a.m.
Sit down at my desk. Begin to print report cards to find server is down. Realize I can't print my lesson plan. Pray for divine intervention.
7:30 a.m.
After printing out my eight page lesson plan I can no longer find it. Reprint. All but staple it to my hand.
10:00 a.m.
Principal walks in and the lesson begins. I am reviewing the letter K and we are identifying the /k/ sound at the beginning and end of words. Because we heard a story about sharks, we make shark fins to swim infront of our bodies when hear /k/ at the beginning. Everything is going swimmingly until I see Precious up front. Not content to move a fin infront, Precious begins to swim back and forth at the front of my rugs.
10:15 a.m.
I realized mid-sentence I am out of sequence. I had meant to start by reading a book and now my lesson is all out of sequence. I sheepishly admit this to the principal who just laughs and says he couldn't tell. He was just enjoying the lesson.
10:30 a.m.
Back on track. After Precious infoms me that they were a machine and in sleep mode. We take a movement break where one child proceeds to show the principal how skilled they are at galloping.
11:00 a.m.
Principal leaves and I am no longer in super stress mode. I am able to form coherent thoughts again.
9:00 p.m.
Laugh about the observation. Thank the Lord my principal is understanding.
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