It's getting better.
Slowly but surely.
My friend is no longer mad at me, and we are back to our old relationship again. Part of the reason it hit me so hard was that I was really beginning to enjoy our friendship a lot, and also because ignoring me and making me feel unseen is a surefire way to kill my spirit dead.
Anywho. I am often asked how my class is this year, and every time the response is the same: Nuts.
My little monsters are hilarious and kooky and every day brings a new story from room 415. Conversations like this one for instance:
kids: Is our football player coming today?
me: I think so. He's not here yet, but he hasn't said he's not coming.
Miss Priss: Well, he was the football player for my class last year, and he was never late.Except for one time, when he couldn't find his pants.
We have athletes from the local high school football team that come to our school for an adopt an athlete program. I don't usually participate in this program, mainly because I always have about a zillion other things I'm trying to accomplish during the day (like math, science, or surviving), and we don't have time. This year, one of the kids in my class has a brother that is one of the football players, so I got roped into it. He's a senior, and he's got a great personality (much like his fourth grade brother), so it's working out well. Of course, this also means I get to say things like "No rushing the quarterback, you have to give a 5 mississippi count, and it is two hand touch do you hear me?! One tackle and you're out of the game and recess also" at 8:30 in the morning. Good times.
My kids personalities are a riot. This year, KC has the quiet(er) class, and I have the class that will.not.stop.talking.or.even.stop.to.take.a.breath. And my girls have much stronger personalities than last year. Which prompts interactions like this one:
At math groups, two of my girls are getting into quite the discussion. There is hair tossing, and some aggressive finger pointing, and I'm waiting to see whose neck will start going first. T's desk is next to my math table (for a reason), and he looks at me, nods in their direction, and says "Hey Miss O. Look. Girl fight." I remind the girls to get to work on their own papers, and T says "Whew. That could've gotten ugly real fast." (You think I teach in downtown Dallas.)Nuts, I tell you.
But for now, I'll definitely keep them.