Thursdays

I feel the need to 'splain. Starting with Thursdays. Wait! No, starting with the last week.

Last week was our spring break. I was lazy. We took a road trip. I posted simple photos and didn't visit anyone online while I was away. It was awesome, being nearly unplugged. Then we got home. I've been slowly catching up, but my posts have still been pretty darn lame. There. That's the "last week" explanation.

Thursdays. I want to be witty and deep on Thursdays, really I do. And in my real life, I almost am. A friend and I walk our dogs at eight am, losing track of time and talking up a blue streak. That's the beauty of a good friend - when you're with them, even exercise seems effortless.

After our walk, we drag our dogs home in separate directions, but my friend and I meet up in a different location for a woman's Bible study. We're studying worship, focusing on stuff I struggle with, like responding emotionally to God. Okay, responding emotionally, period. The book we're using, Satisfy My Thirsty Soul, by Linda Dillow, is alright, actually getting better as we go, but I'm supplementing with C.S. Lewis' Reflections on the Psalms and The PAPA Prayer, by Larry Crabb, both excellent books. I'm learning a lot, but the point is to learn to feel as well, I think. Getting there. Definitely different from the grad class, but equally valuable for me right now. My best friend in the world, Jeni, would probably say that she sees all the little Fleas jumping out of me, feeling. She's more emotional than I am, but that doesn't take much.

About lunch time I zoom from that class to the fourth grade, where I try and meet my Little Guy for lunch (he LOVES that), then pop over to another fourth grade class where I spend the afternoon volunteering. This is the highlight of my week. I've gotten to know the kids a little, the teacher better, and best of all, I've fallen in love with school all over again.

Yes. I was an elementary education major in college, about a million years ago. I chose that major because I liked hanging out with little kids. Literally. I was emotionally stunted, I guess, because I spent recesses in high school hanging on the monkey bars with first and second graders. I also taught my baby brother to read at age three and thought that I was brilliant. Turns out he's the brilliant one, pursuing a PhD in microbiology.

In college I quickly discovered that I didn't like my major. Very Mickey Mouse was how I always described it. But by the time I got around to changing it I was starting my junior year. So I hung in there and got my degree. Alright, I failed aerobics twice and had to take a swimming class, after I moved to Maryland, in order to get my diploma. But I graduated, okay? And wanted nothing to do with schools. Walking into a school building, at that point, was nauseating. For years afterward I couldn't go into a school building. When Oatmeal Head was in third grade I had him tested for learning disabilities at the local elementary school. Just walking through those doors every time we went was really tough. I hated it. I think it's a large part of why I homeschooled for so long, that school-phobia.

So here I am in Tulsa, my children in public school, having a great experience, and I'm loving their schools. Every time I walk through the doors of either school, I feel all warm and fuzzy. It's a lovely thing. Even substitute teaching, so much like the days of student teaching, is fun. My love for learning, children, classrooms, is all being restored. And it ROCKS.

That's my Thursday. My Little Guy loves it because I take him home in the afternoon and he doesn't have to ride the bus. So we wind up running errands. So what? And by the time I get home, I do what I did yesterday, which to make an easy dinner and crash. Nothing else.

Fridays? Well, my Hunny is home today, so I'm going to get off the computer now and head upstairs, drag him off of his computer, and we'll go play in the garden. Did I tell y'all that it was 90 degrees here yesterday? Today's high is supposed to be 56. Still warm enough to garden.

Until I write again ...

Flea