After starting the week with two days of meetings, oh my sore butt from sitting all day on hard chairs, I was ready for Wednesday--as ready as I could have been--to welcome my first ever fourth graders.
What a delight my first day was, one of the best ever. They listened to and followed directions, and they were so sweet. I cannot tell you how much my heart is filled with hope for the rest of our time together.
Though I am savoring and working through this weekend, I am also starting to miss them. They are a delight.
Monday night I meet all their parents for curriculum night. Yikes, I'm supposed to fill them in on what we're going to do all year, when right now I'm taking things day-by-day and hoping to eventually work up to week-by-week. I hope "my parents" will trust that I am a good teacher who is looking at the big picture, but I'm just not zooming in to study each and every fine detail just yet.
I have to share special thanks for my husband who has made dinner each night this week and made me go to bed at nine every night. He knows I wake against my will and my mind starts racing around 4 a.m., so nine is the best time for me to hit the hay. Just like a fourth grader, I protest such a babyish bed time, but I am thankful he nurtures me so.
What a delight my first day was, one of the best ever. They listened to and followed directions, and they were so sweet. I cannot tell you how much my heart is filled with hope for the rest of our time together.
Though I am savoring and working through this weekend, I am also starting to miss them. They are a delight.
Monday night I meet all their parents for curriculum night. Yikes, I'm supposed to fill them in on what we're going to do all year, when right now I'm taking things day-by-day and hoping to eventually work up to week-by-week. I hope "my parents" will trust that I am a good teacher who is looking at the big picture, but I'm just not zooming in to study each and every fine detail just yet.I have to share special thanks for my husband who has made dinner each night this week and made me go to bed at nine every night. He knows I wake against my will and my mind starts racing around 4 a.m., so nine is the best time for me to hit the hay. Just like a fourth grader, I protest such a babyish bed time, but I am thankful he nurtures me so.
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