Why the first day is like giving birth...

Because if you could remember the pain of it, you wouldn't do it again.

First off, why do I bother planning a morning lesson? Why can I not remember that I always end up spending the first half of the day dealing with their things, and finding out which ones of them have UNDIVIDED attention at home? Because I don't write it down, is why. And then the year passes and all I can remember are eight year olds. I have completely forgotten what it meant to be seven.

Sigh. Ah well. It could have been worse. I could have been working on a kidney stone. Oh, wait....

In all fairness though- it wasn't half bad. The girls are pretty much "with it". Only two dreamers in the bunch of 13. Boys. Well. Hmmm. I have one that is non-stop talking- TO ME- about ANYTHING that I am not talking about. He will be my special pet project this year. The Gods have spoken.  I have one that makes robot noises. And I'm just going to rest on that for a bit.  I have two that are non-stop talkers -TO EACH OTHER. Bless the bunnies. Cuties. But dear gawwwwwd, hush! I have one who is a nervous Nellie. I have one that is gigantic, but thus far presents himself as a child that *if* I thumped on his skull, I'd hear a ripe hollow sound... That's 6 out of 10- and to be completely accurate, one of the boys didn't even show up today...

You know what though? All those boys hugged me goodbye today. So it's going to be all good.

Did I WBT it today? I tried. I got down class-yes, and teach-okay, and some great "oral writing". And rule one. But tomorrow the score board must come out. As well as rules two and three. Clearly I'd be better at it if I'd actually taken a training. But I'm muddling through as best I can just watching the webcasts- which are very good.

I will be a better teacher tomorrow. Promise, kittens. But for now, I must collapse into a coma. I shall leave you with a photo.

I came home to find my parking place was taken.

Goodnight one and all!