So, let's talk about workplace injuries. I am a teacher. This is not a profession that people think of as "dangerous." My dad is an electrician at a paper mill. That's a dangerous job. Two days ago his face got burned by steam that exploded out of a pipe.
As a teacher, I have had multiple injuries. I realize that teachers are not supposed to get hurt all that often, but I'm clumsy and have had some very dangerous students.
Since I started student teaching in 2004, I have had:
1. a dislocated shoulder
2. a pencil stab to my cheek
3. a choking
4. a death threat with easy to follow instructions
5. a broken nose
6. several head traumas
7. one bite with many more bite attempts
8. a giant scratch on my neck (current)
9. toy hammer thrown at my chest hard enough to make it sore for the past three days
Therefore, teaching is dangerous. Frankly, I would prefer my children go into law enforcement than teaching.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
A Letter
Dear Mikey,
Here’s the thing. I know you aren’t good enough for me. I also know that to speak to you would be like opening a can that I finally successfully closed a while back. But, you keep popping up in memory. Please, go away. I don’t want to think of what went wrong. I don’t want to think that I made some sort of mistake. My rational mind knows that I’m better off, but I’m also getting tired of being alone, again. I spent five years alone before I met you, and I’ve slipped right back into that. I realize I’m only 26 years old, but I’m ready to be a real grown up. I’m kind of like Rachel in that episode of Friends when she’s dating that young guy and realizes that she doesn’t have enough time to do what she wants with her life.
Therefore, I start thinking of you. I know I shouldn’t. “Wrong road”, I tell myself. “Bad road.” Filled with potholes filled with poo. I’m tired of feeling lonely. I’m tired of feeling like my life is like a TiVo on pause. I don’t know how to work the remote. “Play! Play! “ I scream. Nothing changes. I go to church weekly now. I have a great job. I need something more. Am I being unreasonable? Is this too much to ask? Did I miss out on something that should have been great? When was that? How did I miss it?
I read three books last week. Three full novels. I have NOTHING to do with my time, so I read and read trying to fill up the empty space. It’s exhausting.
This letter wasn’t really to you, of course. I just really want you gone from my mind and replaced with someone else. Please?
S
Here’s the thing. I know you aren’t good enough for me. I also know that to speak to you would be like opening a can that I finally successfully closed a while back. But, you keep popping up in memory. Please, go away. I don’t want to think of what went wrong. I don’t want to think that I made some sort of mistake. My rational mind knows that I’m better off, but I’m also getting tired of being alone, again. I spent five years alone before I met you, and I’ve slipped right back into that. I realize I’m only 26 years old, but I’m ready to be a real grown up. I’m kind of like Rachel in that episode of Friends when she’s dating that young guy and realizes that she doesn’t have enough time to do what she wants with her life.
Therefore, I start thinking of you. I know I shouldn’t. “Wrong road”, I tell myself. “Bad road.” Filled with potholes filled with poo. I’m tired of feeling lonely. I’m tired of feeling like my life is like a TiVo on pause. I don’t know how to work the remote. “Play! Play! “ I scream. Nothing changes. I go to church weekly now. I have a great job. I need something more. Am I being unreasonable? Is this too much to ask? Did I miss out on something that should have been great? When was that? How did I miss it?
I read three books last week. Three full novels. I have NOTHING to do with my time, so I read and read trying to fill up the empty space. It’s exhausting.
This letter wasn’t really to you, of course. I just really want you gone from my mind and replaced with someone else. Please?
S
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