"Praise ye the LORD: for it is good to sing praises unto our God: for it is pleasant and praise is comely." Psalm 147:1
Today was my first day back to school, and I am tempted to write about the bad things that happened except that it is not comely to complain and it is comely to praise. So, instead, I'll start out sharing a really funny dream I had last night or, rather, this morning. I hardly slept at all last night, tossing and turning and staring at the clock for long periods. But there were a few short stretches of sleep, filled with fitful dreams.
The (kind of) funny one was this: I went to the school for the first day of work and when I got there, there were children in my classroom. I saw the principal in the hall and asked why they were there. "I thought they weren't coming until Thursday". He said, "I decided to have them come on in early." I walked into the room and there were about 12 of the grungiest looking little kids I'd ever seen, running around yelling, slapping, kicking, laughing. Before I could get them settled, Mr. Walton said, "Mrs. Evans couldn't make it today, so I need you to take care of both classes. They're right across the hall. You'll figure something out." So I put my purse down, told the hoodlums to sit down and hush, and walked across to Emily's room. Her room was filled with about fifty of the most beautiful children, all with shiny white teeth, smocked and monogrammed clothing, and smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes. So I said to the Stepford children, "Um, let's see. . .Oh! I see a stack of work here on the counter." I handed them all out a bunch of worksheets and said, "Just hang on and I'll see if I can find some pencils." Whereupon they each pulled a sharpened pencil out of their pockets and began to write noiselessly. I then ran back across the hall to my room (from Stepford to Harlem) and found them just as I'd left them: wild and uncontainable. One little scrawny kid with lice hopping around his hair was standing on his head in a chair. I said, "What in the world are you doing? What is your name?" He rolled his eyes at me and said, "Look, I done told you four times what my name be." I got in his face and snarled, "You will tell me as many times as I ask you. Got it?" He rolled his eyes again and told me his name was Tyler. I yelled at them all again to sit down and hush while I checked on the other children. When I walked back into Stepford, I recognized Laine and Allie, who I'd taught several years ago. "What are you doing in first grade?" I asked them. Laine said, "Our teacher didn't come today, either, so they told us to come in here." I knew I couldn't take care of all those children by myself, so I went back out in the hall and knocked on Shontelle's door. When she stuck her head out, I said, "Look, you've got to help me out. I. . ." But before I finished she snarled at me, "I can't help anybody out. I've got five wheelchair children in here." Then the alarm woke me up.
Most of the time when I dream, I know I'm dreaming. If it's a bad dream, I can make myself wake up. But that dream seemed really real and I had no idea I was dreaming until the alarm went off. It was kind of funny, and I told it to several people today, including the principal.
Most of the day was pretty good--I have a great schedule this year, a great roster of children (according to the kindergarten teachers). Mr. Walton came to Shontelle and me today and told us he had to decide where to put Lakera, who is paralyzed from the neck down. I volunteered to take her, and I don't mind really. I met her today, and she is a delightful child. She was in a car accident when she was three, and has been wheelchair bound and on a respirator ever since. However, she comes with a personal assistant and, even though I have large numbers of people come and observe me every year and I usually have a student teacher or two, I really am not real big on having an assistant in the room. It will be very hard for me to adjust to having another adult there from 7:20 til 3:15 every single day of the year. I'm used to being alone with my children and having time to rest, think, plan, and reflect when they go to activities. This is a life-changing thing for me. I am concerned.
But, praise is comely, and I am praising God that I am not in Harlem. Or Stepford.
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