Why are There First Graders on Zoloft?!?

There's only fifteen minutes before the students start arriving and I can't find a lesson plan at all. Nothing. There's a calandar... and some jolly ranchers in the teacher's desk... but no lesson plan. What was she thinking?! Getting sick and calling in and not leaving the sub a lesson plan? How evil. What are we supposed to do? Play heads-up seven up all 8 hours? Five minutes ago another fifth grade teacher came in to inform me that this class is "troubled", something that I hear almost every time I go in to sub for someone. They're all troubled. They're kids. Everything is a crisis. A typical day in the life of a sub goes like this. You can't really prepare at all. You can't even get there early because the damn phone system likes to call you less than a half hour before you're supposed to be at school. So y'know. Chaos and all. It's all different when the kids arrive though. It doesn't matter how "troubled" they are. I'm teaching. I'm actually teaching! My lord. I'm writing on a white board and using the stupid overhead projector and taking down names of the annoying kids. Crazy! I wasn't sure if I'd be a good teacher but then they come up to me with pictures of deformed dinosaurs that they've drawn for me with "miss k" written on it... and I think... I can do this! I can be a teacher. I mean, when you're an actual teacher you get to plan and be early and get to know the kids. It's gotta be a million times better. Yes, I think it's totally do-able! ... then again... that kid over there is sleeping... and that other one is biting his "best friend" on the arm. Again... sigh.

What? There's no Crying in Karate?!

I've only ever had one achievement in my life that made me cry. And I'm not talking about a couple of tears glistening on my cheek. I'm talking like, I had to turn around so everyone couldn't see me bawling like a freaking baby. It happened when I got my black belt. I'm not exactly an athletic person being as short as I am, so karate is the only "sport" that I've ever joined and not felt like a complete failure. I guess if you can't be good at a team sport, you can always enlist in beating people up. That I can do. Karate isn't just fighting for me though. In fact, I really would never want to get into a real fight. I don't want to hurt anyone. This statement would probably make most laugh because I'm so small, but the fact of the matter is that I really do know how to break bones. I just hope I never have to.

I wasn't ready to test for my black belt the night I got it. I'd told sensei time and time again that I didn't think I was at that level. I still felt like I was flailing around like a retarded monkey with a bo staff. But sensei, being the teacher that she is, disguised the test as a simple class exercise. Smart of her, really. I probably would have thrown up or ran out of the dojo the moment I got wind of a test. So when I got called up at the end of that particular class and she pulled a black belt out of her gi (like a freaking magician), my brain froze for a good five minutes when I shook everyone's hand and then I had to excuse myself so I could run to the parking lot and cry in my car. Some tough black belt. It was so unexpected and so awesome that there wasn't much else to do but cry. I was so proud of myself and wished that my family could have been there to see. Or even friends. Course then they'd have to watch the waterworks and I didn't need that. I still can't believe it even though it happened over a year ago. I just hope that when I get 2nd don someday, I won't have to run off the premesis like a sop.

You're in my bubble...and you're naked.

I would like to take a moment to comment on the gym. Not just any aspect of the gym... more specifically the locker room. Yes, the women's locker room. Generally a haven to all who are tired, sweaty and need a shower, the women's locker room is no longer a place that I want to be. At all. I need my shower. I need to get into my locker to change my clothes. But I am interrupted in my goings about because of all the nakedness. Yup. Nine-A.M.- retired-old-lady-wrinkly-nakedness. There's nothing wrong with being old. Nothing wrong with being naked. But there is something wrong with walking around the locker room for many minutes at a time talking to all your friends with everything just wafting in the breeze. That's just wrong! It's not just the old ladies. The younger women do it too. It disturbs me. When I 'm changing, I want to get my clothes back on as fast as humanly possible. In fact, I'm a strong believer in changing in the bathroom stalls. If you're going to be naked, be naked in your little corner of the locker room. Don't be doing squats in the middle of the floor. Don't try to talk to me about your granddaughter unless you've got some coverage goin on! I don't care if you have a perfect body, or if your body looks like it's been through a freaking taffy puller, stop parading around! It's effing awkward. Then there's that arguement; "we're all women, we've seen it before". No. Screw that. Just because we're in the same sex category doesn't mean I want to see you naked. In fact, that seems even more of a reason to not see you naked. Now, if you'd be so kind to pass me the nearest spork. I need to gouge my eyes out.