For all my life long dreams of being a teacher, I dread Monday mornings.
I get a pit in my stomach sometime between 4 and 6 on Sunday evening.
My body refuses to get out of bed when the alarm goes off.
Tim has to make breakfast.
I play with my food, because I’m not really that hungry.
I use the bathroom about 8 times.
I whine and moan and complain and threaten to quit entirely.
I self-peptalk every five minutes.
And then just when I’m about ready to hop on a plane to Alaska and hide in an ice cave somewhere, my students show up, I get to teaching, and BOOM: instantly I’m fine. I’m enjoying my job. I’m loving my kids. I’m excited by my material.
I hope today will be no exception.
It sure hasn’t started out any differently than normal.
We’re dissecting a cow eye today, and the last time I participated in anything remotely similar, I fainted.
And I wasn’t even doing any of the cutting.
There’s just something about eyes. They are incredibly cool…but they give me the willys.
Even if they do belong to cows.
I downloaded these step-by-step instructions so I look like I know what I’m doing.
Since I definitely don’t.
And today, of all days, I have my first set of prospective student/parent visitors.
I hope they like the smell of formaldehyde.
My stomach hurts.
I think I’m going to go work myself up into a real tizzy.
With fond wishes for 12:00pm,
The Mad Scientist