Done. Three and a half hours later.
Spent two hours updating lesson plans to reflect reality from the last two weeks because audit and rusty timing skills. Spent an additional thirty minutes pl*nning one prep for this week. I’m two and a half hours in on my Sunday night and still have prep number two to go. Maybe I can get it done just as quickly as the first..
But I don’t want to.
I didn’t do so well eating-wise last week without the chef. Late nights, low energy, lots of cereal. So boyfriend made way too much food for our small gathering yesterday, so that I would have plenty of leftovers to eat this week.
We were only winning one-nothing at halftime. It was a pitiful performance; the girls had over twenty shots on goal and should have been trouncing our opponents. The halftime talk was clear: show up to play, at our level and not theirs, or sit the bench.
Long story short, the girls showed up and we ended up winning ten to nothing. Which makes me very uncomfortable. That was too much. Nine goals in forty minutes is too much. We started pulling out the starters, told the girls to focus on possession, but the message wasn’t clear. We don’t get time outs; the last word from us to the team collectively was to focus their shots and, ya know, score. They were doing what we asked. But.
In my three years with the team, we’d never faced this problem — being so successful on offense that a legitimate discussion needed to happen with the kids about sportsmanship and empathy and pulling your punches.
It was after many warnings, and involved a stubborn decree of innocence on his part, a terse tone and mini-lecture on mine, and many-a-pin-dropping silence in the classroom. Not my usual style, but.
Afterward, when everyone else was occupied and settled, I went over to him where he was sitting in a huff next to his friend/partner-in-crime.
"I know you weren’t talking," I started, and he looked up to look me in the eye, "that time. I was more talking to [friend]. But the message was directed toward both of you, because you know you were both talking the entire time before when I was addressing the class. I was sharing a personal story about my life and you were over here laughing. I know it was about something else entirely, but not paying attention is its own version of rude.”
Silence, a beat of it, before, “I know. I’m sorry. I have a temper.”
"I do too," I responded. "I’m fine now. Are you?"
"Yeah, we’re good."
"Awesome. Now get to reading."
barlinesandbarbells said: It was the best of tacos, it was the worst of tacos.