Four months. It’s been four months. My calculations don’t seem to be correct. On one hand it seems like only yesterday that I started, and on the other it seems like it’s been a whole lot longer. I’ve been fighting for so long to leave and now that it’s a matter of days away it seems strange to finally be here, or more succinctly, be leaving here. Stop reading between the lines and assume that I mean I’m sorry or sad about leaving. Can’t be farther from the truth, on most accounts. I am sad that this didn’t work out, on some level. I mean I did the whole moving, and connecting, and making of friends (kind of) that one associates with a new job and I have little to show for it. Besides of course the fabulous letter of recommendation that I received from my co-teacher. Allow me to quote the highlights: “…took charge of a 6-8th grade class which unfortunately had been left untamed and unruly. … quickly established order…set high academic standards…knowledgeable…professional, responsible manner… and created rapport with several at risk students. …excellence in teaching helped restore our tiny school… the whole campus calmed down when she took the helm. As a teacher of more than 20 years experience, I have never seen a “new” teacher with as much ability…” (I’m actually a little teary eyed.)
I’ve even been having trouble sleeping. This morning I watched the sunrise after getting no more than three hours of sleep. Stress, excitement, boredom? Who knows?
I’ve have been stressing about this new job thing, new town, SECOND INTERVIEW, and the whole bit. I mean why are they letting me, of all people, teach a classroom? I’m closer to a class clown and I don’t remember a thing from my classes (sure I remember who I sat next to and a few of the jokes we told, but none of the really important stuff) and it’s a letter like this that reminds me that maybe I’m actually a little bit ok at this teaching thing, or I’m just really good at faking it.
So back to the leaving part. I haven’t told anyone yet. I’m not really looking forward to that. I feel like I’ll be letting them down on some level. One teacher knows that I’m interviewing tomorrow and she’s supportive, sad as well, but supportive. The whole town on a whole has been very welcoming, as much as they can be as there aren’t many of them, and now I get to tell them that all the time they put in is, well not paying off in the long run. Of course their kids did have a more productive second half of the year, and according to my new letter of recommendation I am “excellent,” but somehow I don’t think the little steps we’ve made will be long lived. Whomever they get next year will likely be gone again just as quickly. I hope not, for all their sakes. As rough as these kids are they are still my kids now. That’s really the thing, they may not be angels but they are my little demons.
On a more interesting note:
This weekend as I was feeding the horses per usual I had the passing thought to check the water trough. It’s finally been getting warmer and I can’t see the water from the fence line. Bad idea. What does a dead raven smell like partially decomposed and covered in flies? I fortunately do not know the answer to that seeing as the partially decomposed raven I found covered in flies was also marinating in a Mountain Dew colored soup that filled the contents of the trough. Luckily for me the preservative effects of the nature-made Mountain Dew was a fragrance hindrance and I was only privy to the unforgettable sight (read etched in my mind). Well city girl over here was not about to remove the stewing remnants of the bird. A quick phone call to the Grandpa’s son (my boss) and all was soon to be well. Fret not I did not leave the horses to the cesspool. I oh so intelligently figured out the hose/automatic filler and managed to find a fill an old bathtub for their watering convenience. Of course as the old saying goes “You can lead a horse to water…” Which I actually did do. I went and found a lead rope (couldn’t find a working harness, nor did I want to attempt to attach and then remove a harness off of horses that are never ridden, one of which is infamous for throwing riders). The lead rope was previously being used to connect two pieces of fence, the hole through which Fluffy liked to escape and find smelly things to eat. I deftly removed the rope, and looped it around the necks of the horses. One at a time of course. Funny thing is that the horses wouldn’t budge without a rope, no matter the force at which I pushed, pulled and prodded, but with a simple loop around their neck, they calmly, almost eagerly, followed me around the muddy paddock. There I was walking a horse with a simple loop of rope, my tank top, a bright orange visor (I’m the queen of fashion) and flip flops through the muddy and manure filled ground, bypassing the cesspool, which coincidentally reminded me of Homer Simpson’s radioactive plant, with the added feature of buzzing flies, and the Fluffy trying to assist by alternating between dodging horse hooves, and thinking it’d be a good idea to snap at their heels. Oh what a pair of city girls we are. In the end the horses preferred the Mountain Dew to the fresh bath I started, and the rotting raven was minutes from losing its skin as the boss discovered when he barehandedly removed the carcass. I’m OK with being a city girl.
Fluffy also fondly found a jackrabbit at the airport during our walk. Immense fun ensued I think for both animals. The rabbit seemed to enjoy the chase as it wasn’t nearly using its full speed and when the fluffy returned into view she was as happy, and as hot, as could be, with a few extra burrs in the fur as war wounds. I of course gave her a bath before this adventure. In fact since I seem to be blogging this weekend in reverse… I’ll include a picture of the first place Fluffy found to rest after her exhausting day at the spa… She is lucky she’s so adorable.
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