I awoke at 5:15 am, no alarm, no children crying, just my conscience to get me going. I lay out my outfits for the week, like a middle school girl. (Does it look professional enough? Does it have enough pockets? Will I sweat buckets? Are there food, puke, or poop stains on it?) I spent the 20 minutes before dawn pacing around my living room in a walking meditation trying to envision the first day. They will enter the room silently and calmly. I will break every moment of their day down with specific instructions. I will teach them to walk. I will teach them to stand. I will teach them to breathe. My expectations will be so precise, so explicit, that they won't have to guess about a single moment of the day. They will be an obedient flock of birds responding to my every move and command with instinctual precision. As we move through the halls, or a math lesson, passersby will be impressed, indeed emotionally touched, by how well we work as a team. I will feel proud. My students will feel proud.
Yeah, right.
Experience tells me that I will have a 3 - 5 day honeymoon period when they will be cautious and responsive. They will watch me, and I will be wise to watch them. We will suss each other out, testing limits and pushing gently on the boundaries. This is my window to show them that I am kind, firm, knowledgeable, experienced, trustworthy, their advocate and not their friend. I will listen to them, but I set the rules. They can relax. I am in charge. If I fail to do this, then it could be a long row to hoe until June.
My nightmares have subsided. I have the first three days planned, but not to a T. Beyond that is foggy. The fact that I am not nervous makes me dreadfully, sickeningly nervous.
Off to that traditional danish and cheap coffee at our Opening Ceremonies. Let the games begin.
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