Transparent

It was snack time and blueberries were migrating from tabletop to floor to shoe. Gross. And I can't remember what I was annoyed with (constant din of tiny people, "Don't put the serving spoon in your mouth" again and again and again, screeching from kids who want something they don't have yet, or whatever) but I was annoyed. And trying so hard to keep my voice gentle. Anyway, I got the broom to mitigate the blueberry chaos, while determining to keep my frustration to myself.


Let's back up. It was 10:30am and this had been a rough day already-- that morning I found out:
that a leave request for my trip this summer had been denied
and
a parent had requested a meeting with the teachers and supervisor because she thought her kid wasn't safe in our classroom. (p.s. she's safe)


And I'm pms'y. So already, on a scale from one to pissy, I'm about a six. And snack time easily boosted me to an eight.

So okay, there I was trying to sweep up the berries from the floor and a little girl turned toward me, looking a little concerned, and asked "Teacher Amanda, do you like being a teacher?"


Crap. I'm see-through.

I sort of side-stepped and told her that I love all my kid friends. I do love them. And the people I work with are amazing to me. But on a day like this the rest of the job feels like steep hills and scooping water out of a holey boat.

Anyway. I'm see-through.