Somehow, the jarring sound of the alarm this morning became part of my dream….and I opened one eye eventually to face a very disturbed cat staring down at me just mentally willing me to crawl out from under the covers and feed him.  I much prefer warm fleecy blanket sleepers of days gone by worn by little boys who would lay their heads on my drowsy chest and listen to my heartbeat…no doubt hoping, as the cat did this morning, that I would eventually make them Papa’s Blueberry Pancakes.  Much more of a process, and much more rewarding, than finding the right can of “Sheba” for his furry highness.  Somehow I managed to hit the wrong button (again) on the remote while shaking off the mental cobwebs and now all I can watch is static.  One would think a simple remote control would not be as complicated as a Rubics Cube, but I daresay it continues to stump me on a regular basis.  It’s moments like this that I wish I had a man brain…..they seem to have a 6th sense about those remotes, but probably because most of the time they are attached to it if you let them.  At 8:15, my day really begins and the noise from my 26 third graders rises and falls throughout the day; a series of tattles, repeating my name at least one hundred times and occasionally someone slips and calls me Mom.  We laugh together as I often feel like Mother Hubbard surrounded by random wet socks that have lost their owner, boots toppled over each other in the hallway for me to trip over, the grinding noise of the pencil sharpener at regular intervals, and my usual collection of small toys that I have placed on my desk for “safe keeping” till the end of the day.  It is amazing how a pink pony and a few pencils can become a corral which prohibits any work from being done….or the stuffed dog who has been leashed to a desk….no doubt guarding their owner’s pink and yellow diary stashed away in a desk among the jungle of worksheets, notebooks, and crayons.  At the end of the day my brain finally relaxes as quiet settles over the room and the only sound I hear is the hamster doing her 30 laps around her wheel.  I make sense of the books and papers I have spread out across my desk and slip out the door for home.  It is actually a wonderful life, being a teacher and I love the noise, the ponies, and the furry loveable guardians that guard their owners and love them without ever making a sound.  I was so shell shocked leaving the comfort of middle school that I blindly walked into my own tsumani the day I met my 3rd graders.  They have drained my patience and my supplies but tonight while digging out from today’s lessons, a corner of a card peeked out from under my blotter.  I pulled it out and in big, bold letters were the words “I love you Mrs. Crummett.”  The same person who made me this wonderful note told me once that love is all around us (meaning she and her friends had hidden love notes to me everywhere!) She also wrote me a letter at Christmas that said, “I don’t think it’s possible to describe the word FUN without saying Mrs. Crummett…” As a child I wanted to be a movie star so I guess I have succeeded somewhat.  I dance around the room, tell wild stories, make mistakes, listen to 8-year old critics and the classroom has become my stage.  I think those little notes hidden here and there in my classroom are more priceless than any gold statue an actress could receive.  Teaching is demanding, exciting, heart wrenching and a whole lot of work but you know what?  I get to make a difference every single day and that my friends, is quite a gift!

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