Everything's Going My Way

Because I grew up in the blessed land of wheat, I often find myself living the life of an "Oklahoma" poster child. I know every song by heart, and apply them to themes of daily life.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeling. Everything's going my way!"

I had this song on instant replay a'la delusion today as my world as an educator, as a wife, and as a friend crumbled right before my very eyes.

Now, I realize this is my second post of "woe is me," but if the purpose of blogging truly is to keep you all up to speed on the lives of us Idaho dwellers, as well as document life for the future family clan of Josh and Ashley Blain, then I figure not every day can be a happy one, right? I'm not trying to portray the perfect Brady Bunch family, because, let's face it, sometimes life just stinks.

Today...nope...this week has been rough. Last week was rough. I live with a 7Up can in hand 24/7, and Beptobismal within arms reach at all times. Truth be told, I have two bottles of that pink chalky stuff in my desk at school, and I drink it straight out of the bottle. The measuring cups are for amateurs.

During first hour today, my prep hour, a fellow teacher swung by for mindless chatter, but that chatter turned serious, and before I knew what was happening, she was crying and I was crying. Another teacher popper her head in, then she was crying.

The crisis? Loneliness of single parents. I couldn't even find words.

Yep, I started the day off on a heavy topic.

Second hour came, a boy got mad, stormed out of my room, tossed a few choice words over his shoulder, and then I couldn't find him. I had a class full of 10th graders, and one was MIA. I was livid, he was upset, and next week's detention will be a bit more full.

Third hour proved the true imperfections of my knowledge over the "Iliad." Curse you Homer.

Fourth hour ended with 16 students cussing my name for a failed pop quiz of "To Kill a Mockingbird." Believe me, if I was the mockingbird, I would have taken the bullet.

Fifth hour...was...stinky. Literally.

Senior English. Plus immaturity. Plus male humor. Plus burritos from lunch. PLUS a one-liter bottle of Pepsi. Yep- the loudest, most grotesque flatulent of human history. And the boy simply looked at me and said, "What?"

A full can of Lysol, that's what!

Sixth hour, there was no room in the inn. Truly. We went to one computer lab...pre-arranged, I might add...full. Lab number two. Full. Library? FULL.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day."

Seventh hour. Yearbook. Should be a breeze.

Disaster. Yelling. Screaming. More storming off.

"I've got a beautiful feeling."

Student: "I don't even want to be in this stupid class!"

Nothing... is... going... my way.

To top everything off, Josh called to see how my day went, quickly assessed that it went poorly, and tried to brighten life with a bit of humor.

My response was most certainly not one of Carol Brady's.

My response was, "If you don't stop, I'm going to punch you through the phone."

There went my Wife of the Year Award.

This semester has started off so poorly. I ended the first semester of my career confident that teaching was the only profession for me, confident I would always love every single one of my students, and confident I would live through this first year as an English teacher. No wonder 50% of all first year teachers quit after that notorious year.

All I can say is, "Boooo!"

Tomorrow I'll be humming "I Will Survive," and might even possibly get the full lyrics tattooed to my buttocks. Just to remind myself every day is not a musical where the wind comes sweeping down the plains. Sometimes, every day just makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry until your tear ducts have dried out and your face gives the impression that it was stung by a very large bumble bee.

I don't have anything clever or humorous to add for a closing. If I had any energy at all the "crying it out" technique might actually sound appealing. But I think I'll just go to bed, let my husband hold me, and pray tomorrow is either much, much better than today was, or that I get the Swine Flu and can call in sick.

At this point, I'm not sure which is better.