Happy As If...

The eye of the storm is used to describe that deceptive calm in the middle of a hurricane before it rages again. When I was young, I thought, “Well, as long as you move with the storm and stay in the eye, you’ll be okay.”

Of course, I always picture the Lord giving me a heavenly pat on the head, thinking the same thing my grandmother used to tell me, “Happy as if you have a brain.”

So now you know who I am. A few cards short of a deck. Nothin' in the noggin.

And yet, I look back and see the many times the Lord protected me from myself or the anger of others and I realize that I’ve been blessed.

I can say that even after taking one round of an antibiotic back in 2015 that still poisons me today.

Yes, I’m bald.

Yes, I’m adjusted to life with grown children and yes, everyday shit happens to me.

And I know I’m not alone. Those things are worth sharing. Everyone wants to feel that they are not alone. So I'll start. Here's one of my "eye of the storm" stories.

When I first started teaching art, classroom management was stressed over and over as something a new teacher needed to figure out. I read articles, I researched online, I signed up for newsletters. One day during the height of that time all teachers fear and hate—the lagging of February into March when there’s no end in sight and the students are getting tire of being indoors as well—my then third grade sauntered into my classroom and I held my breath. I was going to try a new style of management with these rambunctious children. The class went smoothly, like a dream. Boom! Conquered!

Now all you teachers out there must be giggling to yourself and thinking the same thing my grandmother did. Happy as if…

And you’d be right. After school as I walked back to my classroom, I heard the third grade teacher talking with the second grade teacher saying, “I threatened my students within an inch of their field trip to get them to behave today.”

“Huh,” I thought. “They were great for me.” And my chest puffed out a little more. Nailed it!

Until I heard the follow up, “And I meant every class, even art!”

The screeching that you hear when they stop the old time vinyl? Yep. That was me, again. Eye of the storm. Happy as if. All day I had been proud that I’d figured out one of the most difficult things about teaching, corralling the 20 different personalities for one common goal, to produce art. My ego got in the way of the truth. Again.

Of course, since then I’ve learned that classroom management is an everyday task. You look at each and every face that enters the room, take their mental temperature and adjust. It’s an active task, and an ever changing one. You adjust your plans to what they can handle. In essence, you become a chameleon.

If you were in my head, you’d see me channeling Michael Caine from Miss Congeniality first thing in the morning: “Wear the chameleon, be the chameleon, you are the chameleon.”

Now you’re thinking, what in the world am I doing reading this blog? I’m not a teacher? Where is this mad woman going with this?

At my age, I’ve lived over half my life (please Lord, I don’t want to see 110). And I've picked up a few stories along the way. This blog is for those of you longing to get outside yourself and watch another person try and get outside herself as she meanders and cogitates on the bigger questions in life. 

It’s not a teaching blog (I am a teacher though), or a science blog (I was an engineer too), or even a writer’s blog (I have a few works out there), it’s a LIFE blog. If you’re interested in life, then tag along. I’d love to have you.