Today, Tedra & I got the terrible news that we will not be able to jobshare at Sanchez next school year. At first all I could feel was outraged, but now -- a few hours later -- grief and fear have come to roost as well. What better time for a trip through this week's photos and videos, then, allegedly in search of blog fodder, actually in search of a reason not to spend the evening curled up in a little ball on the livingroom floor.
At the ripe old age of almost-40, I think maybe this is what it means to be a grown-up. Not that you feel any differently about anything really, just that you sometimes act differently in response to it. Sometimes.
I don't like to complain, especially about teaching. Teachers are expert complainers, you see, and for good reason -- there's a LOT to complain about in the profession. But it's like arguing with a lawyer. It's a trap, and it distracts you from the real opponents. That having been said, I just can't believe that in a female-dominated profession of such insane importance to society, people & politicians haven't at least found a way to make early parenthood and teaching somewhat reconcilable. It just plain doesn't make sense.
Ok, enough steps down that dark alley again. I'm going back to my 'happy place' of toddler bubble baths and young, fork-inspired love.
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