Teacher Nightmares

I’ve been meaning to write for a while now, but it’s easier said than done when you have been in an emotionally compromised state.

My class that followed The Year of Mother Teresa ended up being another crew of saints and angels, this time led by a kindhearted Energizer bunny rather than a nun. The gang had the audacity to grow up on me and leave me for other schools at the end of May, and I am still trying to stop crying myself to sleep about it most nights. 

I survived primarily on tears and borrowed books for a few weeks, only to be blindsided by an evil man who moved yet another one of my closest partners in crime to a far-off land—third grade. 

A month later I am still reeling. It’s for the children, but at what cost?  

Shortly after that betrayal, the World Cup came around to comfort me. As it always does, it both enthralled and exhausted me. I set alarms, pulled a hamstring, and ate some feelings all for the love of the game. I vacillated between excitement, sadness, rage, and joy for a month.

And then it all ended the very same day I finished rereading To Kill A Mockingbird.

Too. Many. Emotions.

So yep, I sit here reflecting on my buck wild summer two weeks before I go back to work and I’ve decided--it’s been a roller coaster, people. 

Packing up the classroom. 

Packing up the house. 

Moving home.

Becoming emotionally invested in 64 soccer games. 

Surviving the dentist. 

Reading. 

Sleeping. 

    Trying [unsuccessfully] to convince the world to give me a home or apartment for free. 

     Going outside that one time.

Occasionally driving to get beaten up by my nephews. 

Discovering the joy that is laser tag and shooting the aforementioned nephews a bazillion times.

Oh, and coping with those weekly back-to-school nightmares, a staple of every teacher’s summer. 

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I had my first one of the season at the end of June. 

 

 Somehow I ended up missing the first three days of school. 

You teach how school works the first three days. 

You practice saying the teacher’s weird sounding name the first three days. 

You celebrate the kids getting to school, getting lunch, and getting home the first three days. 

You do not miss the first three days. 

But because I am who I am even when my mind could dream of literally any other characteristics for me, I inexplicably missed the first three days. The fourth day was up in the air for a while there too because I missed my ride to school. Yes, a super fun recurring theme in my school dreams is that I am both a student and a teacher, and yes, brain researchers, the implications of that scare me too.

Eventually I get to my room, and the gravity of the nightmare hits.

Fifth graders who are pretending to be helpful but are actually just skipping class and riling my kids up have broken the threshold and have to be shooed out of the classroom. 

The parents of all of the children are in the room. After the bell rang. Just hangin’ out. No thanks. I can deal with children, but adults freak me out. Get out of our room, plzkthx. 

Oh, and my teeny class of 4-6 has morphed into at least 13, which would be cool if they slowed down enough for me to get an accurate count of how many hooligans I am responsible for keeping alive.

Since I hadn’t been around to defend my territory the first few days, my classroom also became the dumping ground for all of the unwanted furniture in the building. All of the small stuff we actually use is nowhere to be found, but we have a complete collection of adult-sized desks. As kindergarteners are wont to do, especially in front of bewildered parents and a clueless teacher, they scale the gigantic furniture with reckless abandon. 

To add insult to injury, my angel of an assistant who actually bothered to come to work has been keeping everyone busy with—now brace yourself for this atrocity—winter themed activities.

It was a real nightmare.

You can bounce back from a lot of things, but I wasn’t too sure I could bounce back from gingerbread houses and snowmen in August. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thankfully, I got a few weeks off before the nightmare fairy struck again. 

This time, I was called and told I had to move to second grade. 

I knew right away this was fake life because the last time I answered a phone was when I was 7, but still, I couldn’t stop the train.

Given that I may or may not have written a page or two of demands and Photoshopped our boss’s head onto various dictators’ bodies in response to him moving my friends to the opposite side of the school, maybe I had this one coming. The jury’s still out. Whatever. 

Back to the nightmare.

For some reason my classroom wouldn’t be able to be with the rest of the second grade classrooms. Interesting approach to Strategic Plan Tenet 3.2,c.: Keep Teachers Happy, but hey, I can deal. 

Then when I got to my room I realized that it was actually in an empty hallway…in the middle school I attended. 

In another state. 

The commute was going to be a little rough. 

 

I get over the initial shock of moving to second grade and teaching in a different state from the rest of the school, I discovered I didn’t have any of my stuff.

My beloved books were missing. 

I didn’t have any anchor chart paper. 

Pens, markers, where you at?  

The computer wouldn’t work either. 

Unnightmaringly enough, my kids were fantastic. It was weird because the class was actually made up of people I grew up going to school with. (Thanks, Darryl and Shakayla for your help in my time of need.) Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers, and I’d gladly take freakishly well-behaved children in my nightmares. 

Especially because while I was scrambling, I realized that my assistant wasn’t there the first day.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

I don’t remember if I woke up crying or screaming, but I do know that my trying to teach for three days without Ingrid was waayyyyy scarier than when she taught three days without me. I guess I got this bad dream for a little perspective. Things can always be worse. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The nightmares keep rolling, but for the most part have been a little hazier. 

Throughout the summer I’ve been waking to search for a syllabus that should explain when a looming paper is due. Last week I finally made some headway and learned I was writing a paper called “The Disney Effect: How Princess Culture Influences Children in Early Childhood” and discovered I was only allowed to use children’s books for the assignment. I don’t know why I am writing this paper, but I am pretty sure I was supposed to turn it in last week. 

 In possibly both the most entertaining and mortifying school dream I can remember, three nights ago I was in an IEP meeting for myself. Much to my horror my boss happened to walk by, met my mom, and decided to stick around for the rest of the meeting because of course he did. Somehow despite being too old for an IEP, the team developed social goals for me anyway. I woke up with my forehead scar throbbing à la Harry Potter only to remember that they ganged up on me and drew (tattooed?) a unibrow on me during the meeting. Despite my best scrubbing I had to teach the rest of the day with the wooly thing resting above my eyes.

Again, a little bitter about even my subconscious making me the butt of the jokes, but one day I’ll get that dream where I am cool. One day.

 

I think the moral of that one was supposed to be to work on greeting people and not moonwalking away from conversations, but I’m walking away knowing that I must never let my parents and boss meet.
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Unfortunately, there have been other moments this summer that have felt like teacher nightmares despite my being wide awake. Most of the nightmares are thanks to unfair comparisons, shortsightedness, and Instagram, but they still bombard me. 

 I had the moment of terror when I realized that everyone except for me was being developed professionally. 

And then I remembered that after May, the thing I needed most to be a good teacher was a break. Sleep, exercise, and meals that aren’t family size bags of chips would probably do me (and my kids) some good come August.

I panicked and woke up with the need to get to Target before all of their back-to-school stuff was sold. Bins, flexible seating, and knick knacks galore!

And then I remembered that there isn’t a Target within an hour of me, oh, and I don’t need or want anything from there. My kids can stand, sit at the table, or sit on the floor. Take that, fancy, expensive flexible seating manufacturers.

I freaked out last week when I saw the teacher down the hall already has her room unpacked and ready for Open House while my classroom is currently split between my closet, a storage unit, and the trunk of my car.

And then I remembered that we aren’t even allowed back in the school building yet, I have two weeks before I report to work, and I am able to help my kids feel more at home by what I say than how things look. 

Teacher friends, it’s going to be okay. The nightmares never pan out the way we spin them; they materialize in the form of new initiatives or parent emails, not you showing up to work in just your underwear. 

 If you spent all the hours this summer learning about the new science textbooks for your school, thank you. The rest of us know who to go to when we need to know where to find that online resource. 

Skipped the morphology classes to go on a family trip? Thanks for investing in your people who you don’t get to spend enough time with when you are preoccupied with 25 other little ones during the year. You and your kids will be better for you having taken that time. 

Did you make new products for Teachers Pay Teachers? Those of us less entrepreneurial thank you, especially if you are doing the Lord’s work and giving quality resources away for free. 

Spend time perusing TPT and gathering resources for the coming year? You the real MVP. Your teammates salute you and appreciate you saving them some time. 

Dang. Is that your classroom I saw on Pinterest? That is incredible, and I know the families of your kids love the feeling they get when they walk into your room. I overheard the moms walking away from Open House talking about hiring you to style their homes. Get that side hustle! 

Or maybe you’re the one I am competing with to find the best stuff in the trash? I see your thrift, and I respect you for it. 

I think too often we revert to seeking out that affirmation, wanting to be the best at the writing curriculum, decorating our classrooms, organizing paperwork, etc. and lose sight that it isn’t a competition.

We’re on the same team.

You have your strengths, I have mine (somewhere).

Together we can use them to help make some little people more well-rounded students. 

We’re there for the kids, not the accolades or that humongous paycheck we take home.

A school doesn’t need 40 people who are all the best critical thinking activity designers or prettiest anchor chart producers. Thank goodness we don’t all have to be the best lesson plan writers because while I see you, Teacher in A160 who has lesson plans written for the next 2 years, I’m still working on last year’s.

I once read that a body has many parts, and they all need one another. The eye needs the hand, the head needs the feet. The planner needs the spontaneous, the low maintenance needs the organized.

If you need me, I’ll be avoiding nightmares and photoshopping myself into World Cup celebrations. I’ll whistle when I need you to come help decorate my classroom and explain the new library to me. Once we get the kids back I can help you with behavior in the cafeteria if you want.