Anyone who's ever been a teacher knows that feeling when you look out at your students with about six weeks of school left and think, "I'm never going to make it." Spring has arrived in full force, your students are getting antsy, and you have (smack) hit the wall.
That's where I've been at this week...wondering how I'll ever be disciplined enough to finish the rest of our lessons and why I ever thought this was a good idea in the first place. Then, to add icing on the cake, my 9-year-old informed me the other day that he couldn't see any possible purpose for school.
"Why do we even need it?" he asked.
I tried to explain by helping him imagine what his life would be like in the future if he didn't continue his education. I painted a bleak picture where everyone would look down on him for being dumb and he would starve to death due to the lack of funds with which to buy food. His response?
"I'll just ride my bike somewhere and eat plants."
When pressed about which plants specifically he planned to eat, he said pineapples.
"Pineapples don't grow around here," I said.
"Then I'll move to Hawaii."
Good luck riding your bike all the way to Hawaii, buddy.
Anyway, it's safe to say for the past few days I've been getting up in the morning with a certain amount of dread. Apparently, this has been evident on my face because for the past three mornings, my sweet little (now) 3-year-old has watched me making breakfast and has asked, "Are you happy, mommy?"
What an interesting question. Profound, really. Her question has given me a whole new perspective on not only how much my attitude affects those around me, but also how little I consider the idea of happiness. As a result, I've been forced to think about all the things I have to be happy about. Turns out there are gazillions, and being able to teach my own kids is one of them.
So why the long face? Apparently I have no legitimate reason, as my daughter has pointed out in a round about way. So I've decided I need to change my attitude so that if she asks me tomorrow, I can honestly say, "Yes, baby. I'm happy."
Who needs a therapist when you have a 3-year-old?