Confessions of a First Year Teacher: I Pretend I Have a Kid
Confession: I love dessert. Any dessert. All desserts. Cookies, ice cream, cake, brownies, crumbles, pies…anything with sugar or frosting or both. I have been known to make a pan of brownies and gobble them all down singlehandedly and proudly. Gluttony and I have become close acquaintances.
Unfortunately, my love for dessert has come at a price. Thanks to my age and metabolism the price has not been at my waistline. The trouble with my passion for sweets is that I find myself unable to control my love at all the wrong places. At buffets, pot lucks, ice cream shops, I always dive right into the scrumptious desserts. While some of you may not see a problem with my questionable diet, others do.
In a recent instance of dessert-aholics anonymous, I have attempted to alleviate my typical embarrassment at a school district dinner for new teachers. After loading up on mouth-watering fajitas complete with all the toppings, I found the good stuff.
Chewy Brownie Bites.
At the dinner I had a few luscious brownies and really tried to reign in my growing appetite. I promise I tried! But…
Everyone at my table got sentimental, “I’m going to take a plate home for my children. They will be thrilled.” Then another woman chimed in, “My daughter would love a brownie. I will take her one.”
Bingo! I found my alibi. “Yeah…my daughter would love a couple, too!” I slipped a few brownies onto a plate and proudly marched out of the dinner knowing full well that my fictional daughter would not be getting any brownies. More for me!
My fictional daughter is not limited to school district dinners. She also comes in handy day-to-day at work. You see, most of the people I work with are my parents’ age. In fact out of all the teachers, paras, secretaries, and administration only a handful are younger than 30. Even at that, most of the young people have children.
I love the people I work with, but sometimes I feel out of the loop simply because of my age. When people talk about their grandchildren, I smile. When they talk about their son getting married, I ask questions. When the conversation drifts back to the good ole’ days, I nod. But it’s difficult for me to relate.
At college I was surrounded by people my age. We had loads of things in common. We could call each other on a whim and go do something fun. My social life was booming. Now things are different. I don’t have many people around here I can text one minute to meet up with the next minute. The other teachers don’t as easily relate to the troubles I’m having with adulting. Age puts us on a different level.
Although I don’t have a BFFWT (best friends forever who’s a teacher) at my school, I am content. I feel protected because I remind many of my colleagues of their own kids. I notice some of them giving me advice and looking out for me. One teacher sent me an email full of encouragement and empathy when things weren’t going well. Another teacher stood up for me in a casual conversation I wasn’t even a part of. I have been given loads of genuine advice time and time again. At this school I’m well taken care of.
And so is my daughter 😉