We have had three four- and five-day weekends this February, courtesy of wintry weather and slick roads and school holidays. This amounts to half of February being eaten up by cabin feverish kids.
I love having them home because we plow through library books and get cozy on the couch. We put some seeds in trays and play music.
But they eat all the food, make a thousand craft projects with googly eyes, dump potting soil everywhere and destroy the house…It’s the best and worst of times.
I made this a heck of a lot more complicated by signing up for a teacher’s certificate program. Ignoring the American Board’s advice to give it four months, I gave myself two weeks to study the general material before the first exam. I do these things on a whim because it helps me procrastinate on other projects, but also subbing has really compelled me to at least be open to more-qualified teaching at public school…I didn’t foresee the study days getting eaten up by google-eyed milk jugs and the like, but that’s what happened. I crammed at night and during afternoon Encanto and My Fair Lady sessions.
During my online practice tests, I’d ask the boys who wrote the Zimmermann telegram and who received it, and they’d scramble to grab the Nathan Hales’ Hazardous Tales that applied. History nerds (as all nerds) are sorely underrated.
Thank heavens, I passed the real exam today. I know for a fact I missed the question on who settled Rhode Island and the difference between graphemes and diagraphs (I still think they’re the same thing), but I smoked the math and literary devices portions. All that pre-algebra during the pandemic and those dull books I constantly read…
Now all I’ve got to master are best teaching practices, and you probably already know I’m overly confident in the essay-writing arena. Watch out, American Board–you aren’t ready for the metaphors I’m about to drop.
So it warmed up a little–enough to get our and drag some goodies from the barns. The boys found me some boards in the chicken house (cross that out, mansion on a hill) so I’ve begun my garden beds a la hugelkultur.
I’m delighted to find all this old stuff because I’m terrible at sourcing things on my own. I easily talk myself out of walking into Dollar General to ask if I can nab some of their cardboard boxes for my no-till garden. (Fear of rejection? Too hermitress? I don’t know.)
All I know is my inanimate friends at home are always cheering me on.