Last last week, my old principal/boss called and offered me an English teaching position. The hours were great. I could have had my planning period at the end of the day, and I didn't have to do my planning at work, so I could have been off at 12:35. Not bad.
And I considered it.
For a week I went back and forth over pros and cons...
and prayed.
I definitely loved teaching. I returned a projector to Northwest Classen about a month ago. As I was walking up to the main entrance I did have a few tears in my eyes. I felt so glad I had a good excuse to stop by. Cora was on my hip. I miss the students, and listening to their ideas and sharing new ones with them. The wheels would start turning and important points of conversation would fill the room. I miss the interaction with so many different personalities. Most of my thoughts of teaching came when Cora was sleeping. Then she would wake up.
And I couldn't stand the idea of not being there to see that toothy smile.
Needless to say, I will not be returning to the classroom, not outside of my living room anyway. It was a way bigger deal before I officially said no. I was flattered to receive the offer. It was nice to feel wanted/needed in my "professional" life. But when it comes down to it, that flattery pales in comparison to the way I feel when two tiny hands attached to two tiny arms are reaching out in my direction.
...or wet kisses on my cheek
...splishy splashy bath time
...singing lullabies and watching heavy eyes close
...coded conversation
...trips to the park
...swinging
...bird watching
...new food expressions
...army crawling
...10:00 AM and 2:00 PM nap times
...lovey dove-in' on someone who always thinks I'm great.
