[Vol. XX for Me]
The Flummoxed-By-Life Edition
There are days when I should not be teaching.
If I must teach on these days, I should do it from…oh, I don’t know…the table at Caribou Coffee while sipping a pumpkin spice latte.
Except…would all that caffeine really help my mood, if my mood’s so bad I should not be teaching? Case in point: on Tuesday of this week, I had a particular student who was fretting about Algebra.
Specifically, subtracting integers.
This particular student was complaining—and loudly so—about not understanding the…mathematics of it. This particular student complained and complained and complained and complained, until finally, his teacher (that would be me) stood up and hollered, “You don’t HAVE to understand it! Just do it!!!”
Seriously? I looked like this:
I am—have no doubts about it— a top contender for Homeschooling Teacher of the Year.
Consider the irony, then, of the exchange that took place after Mass yesterday. I had gone with five of my six children (the oldest being away at school) in honor of the feast day. After Mass, two different women approached me from two different directions and at the same time said:
“You’re a saint!”
(This on account of my bringing five children, I guess.)
What does one say to this? You can’t agree; that makes you prideful. You can’t disagree; that makes you argumentative.
I went with Option 3 and said nothing.
And then I thought about my Jack Nicholson face all the way back to the van.
I will say my kids were well behaved at Mass yesterday—so well behaved, in fact, that I decided to take them out for hot cocoa afterward. I decided to take them to….Caribou Coffee.
Oh, alright. I admit that I had ulterior motives…but it wasn’t just my pumpkin spice latte. I needed an author photo for an article I’m doing, and I thought that Jem could take one of me while we were there.
He took this one:
And this one:
And finally this one:
At that point I called it a day and we left.
On the way out to the van, Felicity dropped her hot cocoa in the parking lot. Splat! “That’s okay, honey; that happens,” I told her. We got into the van and I drove home.
On the way into the house, Cate dropped her hot cocoa on the sidewalk. Splat! “Okay, kids,” My voice had an edge to it. “You really need to be more focused.”
On the way to the kitchen table, where I intended to set my coffee, I dropped it—splat!—all over the floor. At that point I decided that we were cursed and I should probably just switch to orange juice.
Shortly after the spilled cocoa/coffee incident, I went to check my Twitter updates and saw the following:
Seriously? This exchange had me flummoxed—just flummoxed. What kind of person says “My condolences” to a mom in front of her children?
If it’d been me, I would have smacked him.
Though that would probably be counterproductive to this whole we-have-lots-of-babies-because-we-love-people movement.
*Note to non-Twitterers: Start at the bottom (Danielle’s oldest tweet) and read your way up. Click on the image if you can’t read it.
Did I mention we went to daily Mass yesterday?
This is why we go as often as possible, you know. We go so we can handle life on those days when we can’t handle it.
Plus I took this photo in the church’s garden after Mass:
And that, my friends, makes it all worthwhile.
The having of babies…the going to Mass…the spilling of coffee…
Visit Jen at Conversion Diary to see all of the Quick Takes from today.
And have a happy, non-flummoxed day.
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