Wow. Today was not a lovely day in the 'room. I worked for about 6 hours, and only about 2 of them didn't involve cuss words and the throwing of things like staplers and scissors. The word 'disgruntled' doesn't begin to cover it. It needs words like 'furious', 'frustrated', and of course, the most accurate of all, 'childish'.
And when I fell off a chair and took 4 other chairs down with me, dropping my stapler, and landing on both knees and bonking my head...well that word would be called 'ugly'. It took a good three minutes of laying on the ground, curled up and broken again before I could pick myself up and, after the room stopped spinning, ascertain if I had a concussion or not.
I'm not a second grade teacher anymore. I'm a fourth grade teacher. And I don't want to be. I don't want to move rooms. I don't want to have to put up new bulletin boards and rearrange furniture (assuming I get some...another reason I'm disgruntled). I don't want to have to learn new curriculum and new ways to do things.
More than that, I don't want to hear the laughter and excited greetings of the other members of my former team that I loved. I don't want the pity conversations that we keep having. I don't want to have to try to put on a happy face and say "it will be alright" and act like a trooper. I want to be cranky and whiny and juvenille. I want it back the way it was.
But I can't have it that way.
And it will be alright.
And I am a trooper.
But for today, and a little bit tonight, I'm gonna throw myself a little party. A pity party. With pizza. But not clowns. Clowns freak me out.