How do you transition?

Do you scream?  Do you yell?

Do you stomp off and cry?

Do you do what you’re told and don’t ask why?

Do you even try?

Do you come when you’re called?  Or do you hide?

Do you say something snide?

Do you keep it all bottled up inside?

Are  you helpful?  Are you thoughtful?

Are you mean or quite possibly awful?

Are you mad?  Are you sad?

Or does this all make you glad?

Are you bad?

Do you stop and think?  Or stare and blink?

Or is your excitement just on the brink?

Do you smile? 

Or do you frown for a while?

Do you cross your arms and glare with style?

Do you anticipate what’s coming up?

Or maybe you just want to give up?

Do you kick?  Do you hit?

Do you throw a fit?

Do you sit?

It’s a hard job as you can see,

To conduct the Preschool Transitioning Melody.

Mrs. V

I am by nature an optimist, a Pollyanna, a glass half-full sort of person.  My personality has always been my secure armour in this all too often cruel world. 

During the past few months that armour has taken some hard hits.  I almost think it is a life test to make sure that I really am an optimist.  That I’m not faking it or hiding my true feelings.

To be honest, I was beginning to doubt my own optimism. 

Then the other day a dear friend told me that I was amazing because I was still smiling and laughing, even when things weren’t so going so well and I wasn’t feeling my best.  It was a compliment worth thinking about, and I have indeed put some thought into it. 

I really do believe that it is okay to smile and laugh when things aren’t going so well.  In fact, it might help you feel a little bit better, and it may help those around you feel a little bit better too.

I like being an optimist. 

My armour might be dented, but it is still intact. 

And that gives me something to smile about.

Mrs. V 

What can I say?

I could bore you with the ugly details with how the last 2.5 months of 2009 pushed me to my limits physically, emotionally and mentally, but I won’t do that.  I can honestly say that my winter break could not come soon enough.  It gave me the time I needed just to breathe and relax.

So my blog has been sitting here in cyber space completely neglected since, well, November, I guess.  I confess that I didn’t do much blog reading either.  I really did miss those simple pleasures, but my energies were elsewhere. 

I’m at a crossroads.  Do I keep my blog?  If I keep my blog do I continue to write about teaching?  A (big) part of me worries that I don’t (or won’t) have anything remotely funny to write about.  I don’t think I’ve lost my sense of humor, but I think (and hope) that it has just been hibernating since October.

Goodness knows I’ll need that sense of humor when I return to the classroom tomorrow morning with my students who have not been at school for 16 days.  

And just to prove that I haven’t lost my ability to add  a dash more crazy to existing craziness, we will also have show and tell tomorrow. 

I really do prefer the controlled chaos that I create, instead of the out of control chaos that I experienced at the end of 2009. 

So I’m ringing in 2010 with great enthusiasm and hope.

Once I feel confident with where I’m going, I’ll feel confident in where this blog is or is not going.

Happy New Year!

Mrs. V

Thank goodness October is now just a hazy memory of H1N1, fevers, pneumonia, pleurisy, ER and doctor visits, chest x-rays and heavy duty antibiotics. 

Remember that full-on sneeze I was a recipient of?  It brought H1N1 into my house.  The H1N1 gave my otherwise very healthy 11 year old daughter a nasty case of pneumonia.

Obviously I have not had much time to spend blogging.

October is best forgotten anyway, I think.

How has November begun?

One word:  CHAOS

Halloween, time change, full moon and preschool are not a good mix.

I have conferences starting next week.

I have 40 “report cards” to fill out this weekend.

I may have to brush up on my teacher code if the chaos in what was once a rather orderly classroom does not subside.

Help…

Mrs. V

… Who sneeze into their elbows.  Their teachers will love them forever.

I have definitive evidence as to why sneezes need to be covered.

Last week Wednesday I was the recipient of a full blown uncovered sneeze by a child with an obvious cold.  Gross, ewwww, blech… **shudder**

This child also sneezed on about half of the children in the classroom periodically during our class time together. 

Student: “Sneezy sneezed on me!”

Teacher: “I know, I’m sorry.”  What else could I say?

No matter how many times I asked “Sneezy” to sneeze into his/her elbow, the sneezes continued to blow through our classroom.  This child would look right at me after the sneezes and just shrug.   Of course, these weren’t little sneezes; these were full force, spit flying, snot-bearing sneezes, and not a single one was covered.  Sneezy just did not seem to get it.

Guess who now has a cold?

Me. 

Several of Sneezy’s classmates have the cold now too.

Lovely.

Please cover your sneeze.  Please.

**sniffle**

Mrs. V

P. S.  My sister is having a contest!  Stop on over and check it out.