How was your morning?

Now, I know you are totally over hearing about kindergarten, teaching, school, children, or being overwhelmed in general, and wondering, can't she talk about anything else?!

And the answer is no.

It's all I think about.

Actually, the thought, "What was I doing/thinking about before I went back to teaching in the classroom?" pops up pretty regularly, because what ever that was, I'm not doing it anymore.

Regardless of my adjustments and crazed preparation, my classroom continues to be a different version of yesterday's three-ring circus. Never a dull moment. Never. Take last Wednesday morning for example:

7:35- Peel crying twins off of their parents, yet again, while greeting the other 21 students and making sure they are putting their backpacks away and finding their correct seats.

8:00- Console a crying student for getting busted (by me) for running and playing tag in the classroom during centers. I assure him I'm sure it won't happen again... wait, why do the roles seemed reversed?

9:15- Bandaging up a skinned knee at recess just as another bawling student wanders up with a busted, bloody lip. She somehow smacked her face on the slide. And of course she doesn't know how to get to the nurse. (Wait, where did I put the nurse cards?!) Who knows how to get to the nurse?! Can you escort her there and then come RIGHT BACK TO THE CLASSROOM?! (Jeez, is this proper protocol? Should I send a bloody, crying 5 year-old with another overly-confident 5 year-old? If there is anything I've learned in my few weeks with kindergartners it's that they don't always know what they think they do...) Whew, he's back. That was quick. He probably ran all the way back. Hopefully no one saw him running in the hall, or at least not back into my room.

9:45- In the middle of read aloud. All the kids are sitting, listening, focused.

BANG! The bathroom door is kicked open to reveal one of my boys strolling on out, singing to himself, his underoos and jeans around his ankles. OMG! Is this really happening?!

Luckily the kids' backs are to him and only catch a glimpse of his full moon as he turns around after I say (calmly, believe it or not), "Turn around, shut the door, and pull up your pants. We do not come out of the bathroom before pulling up our pants."

This is all before 10 o'clock. Oh, and I'm supposed to be teaching them how to read somewhere in there.

Ha. Ha.

Tell me, if you had days like this, would you blog about anything else?!