First day of P1 :)

 "Only about 11 hours! That's not too bad!" I exclaimed to my fellow expat teachers as I punched out of work. This is the life of a teacher. I consider the fact that my working day was 11 hours with one 10 minute break to eat, (to which I responded to multiple cries of "Miss! Miss!" from students) and one 5 minute break to chug 12 ounces of water and pee, a "not too bad" day. 

It was okay. I say okay because no first day is perfect, because no day as a teacher can go perfectly as planned. I say okay because prior to 4:00 on Friday I had 13 students, and this morning my alarm began blaring annoying music at me at 4:45am.  I had to finish preparing for the total of 18 that would show up. 

I had 2 criers and one screamer. I asked them all at the end of the day if they were excited to come back, and they responded with a very positive yes. 

Now lets talk about the joys of working at a school located in a high rise building. I spent far too much time waiting for elevators, and in elevators. So much so, that the very brightly sounding jingle for the advertisement on the screen of the elevator is currently stuck in my head, and will be engraved there forever. Trying to mangle 18 students into an elevator in an orderly fashion is nearly impossible, but I think my students are getting the hang of it little by little. At one point I was waiting to take my slow eaters upstairs for playtime in the gym, and I think we waited about 8 minutes for the elevator to come. What a waste of learning time! My partner teacher informed me that I should plan for 10 minute passing periods before and after specials, which means that on Tuesdays I only get a 20 minute English period! What?!

Immediately after shuffling the rascals off to their parents I attended a staff meeting, where I was overwhelmed by more information about after school programs, the work notebooks (there are 7 that we have to fill by the end of the year,) deadlines for testing, deadlines for materials lists, and preparations for parents night. I stayed another hour and forced myself to leave. My fellow ex-pat teachers were also drained. As I told them about my "not too bad" 11 hour day one declared, "I'm not going to the gym." The other agreed. "I'm going. I need to go." I responded.

Thanks iPod, thanks top 25 list, and thank you elliptical for a great workout and a fantastic outlook on life. I whispered lyrics, slid my feet around in poor dancing fashion, and used the handlebars as a drum. My brother kept playing this song when I was home, and I've always loved it, but today something about it felt different. Like I really meant it in some way. 

We won't mention that I didn't include the hour of work I did at home in my 11 hour day. Here's to tomorrow being just as chaotic, stressful, and wonderful! I love being a teacher. Am I crazy?