Hugs, crayons, giggles, crafts, random stories...

Those are just a few things that I miss about teaching. As many times as I told myself that I had the most frustrating job, I must admit that it is possibly the greatest and most rewarding job. Nothing can be rewarding without a challenge. However, I think teaching isn't something a teacher develops, I think it's naturally cultivated through our lives. During my childhood, I was especially observant of what my teachers did. In my life, I was both the good student and teachers pet, as well as the lazy student that didn't read the required reading. There were also times that I actually accepted help on homework when I couldn't understand. Rarely did I admit that I didn't understand. This happened in sixth grade on a math assignment. My mother and father sat down to help me. It was the last time I asked for help since the grade on that assignment dragged down my entire semester average. I enjoyed being a student so much that it's a pleasure to be on the other side. To be the teacher that I wish I had. Taking ideas and moments from teachers I had in the past, and trying to avoid becoming one of the bad teachers that I would like to forget. I won't name names - Mrs. Boyd, 4th grade homeroom (You've got a poco face with rocks in your jaws!); Ms. Costello, 7th grade history; and Mrs. Stone - 11th grade English.

Today was a day that kind of stayed suspended in time. A day that wasn't planned, just completely spontaneous. It was a day of seemingly normal events, but in a different world where everything is new and nothing is familiar.

Last night Celine and I spoke. We thought it would be great to have breakfast this morning. Once I dropped Zac off at school, I ran to the boulangerie to get a warm baguette. She met me at my place and we had such a great, relaxing morning. She brought home-made prune jam and honey from her grandparent's home in Mourjou, France. Oh it was all so good.

I found out last night that Zac's godmother would be picking him up at noon to spend the day with him, which gave me the afternoon off. During breakfast, Celine and I decided to meet back up at after Zac left. I hopped on line 13 with her to go to her school. She doesn't work on Wednesdays, but wanted to catch up and prepare for the rest of the week. She teaches little kiddos between the ages of four and five. Oh such wee little ones! Walking through the halls just made me imagine Porter Elementary and the chatter and giggles and student-work along the walls. I became nostalgic and missed it like an old hobby. Each one of my students popped into my head and made me a little weepy. I miss them. I still have this slight feeling that this holiday will be over and they will be back in my classroom. I still wonder when that feeling will go away.

Celine's classroom is so cute. For some reason, it reminded me of one of the rooms I've been in as a student. Whether it was at a Mother's Day Out or a church room. Something about it was extremely familiar. I sat down to help Celine with a song she was planning to sing with them. It's called Mon Petit Oiseau (My Little Bird). It's about a little bird that is flying along, just singing his little heart out, and he finds a branch to sit on. The branch was dry so when he landed on it, it broke and he fell. He hurt his wing and his foot. That's about all I know of the song. All I did was draw pictures to go along with it. That was my contribution.








We went to the teachers' lounge to use the stapler for her children's folders and stumbled upon a big chocolate cake in the refrigerator. Yes, we did and it was good. Enough said. I checked in on Zac and found out that he was at the Louvre. I still had more time! I went to Celine's apartment for lunch and more conversation. It doesn't get better than that.

It was a great day. A friend that feels just as familiar as a friend of ten years, a school that reminds me of something I love to do, good conversation over a delicious meal, and sharing funny stories. It was all so familiar, but I am in a new country with new friends, eating different food, and in a French school. My new reality has become something of a surreal experience. But how can I be in reality when everything I have been so accustomed to is still 6,000 miles away - well except for my Buchanan blanket, dvds, and a few clothes and shoes. I guess that is what makes this so fun.