On Missing My Little Man

Yet again, I am sitting in my freezing classroom waiting for Rachel to be ready to go home, and trying to bring myself out of the dreary mood I am currently in. My day didn't go particularly bad, though I wouldn't necessarily say it was the best either.

I started the day off on the bad foot though. I had my alarm set for 6am, as I had hoped to wake up early, have a shower, and then perhaps curl my hair. I don't usually curl my hair on a weekday, but I felt like putting in a little extra effort. As my alarm gentle prodded me out of sleep this morning, I was overcome with the most soul-crushing desire to never leave my bed. I blindly batted the shelf about my head, searching for my phone (which acts as my alarm). When my fingers finally rested on it, I instinctively, without looking, mashed the snooze button. Pulling the covers over my head, I nestled in further, refusing to allow myself to wake.

Twenty minutes later, the alarm alerted me again. Realizing that I would no longer be able to curl my hair, I cursed my own laziness and reluctantly hauled myself out of bed. The walk to the bathroom, though short, was torture. My house is, like my classroom, unseasonably cold in the morning. I think that my room mates turn the heater off a night, to save energy. Cheap bastards. My shower was long and steamy, as I took my time washing up. I even shaved my legs in their entirety, in a prolonged effort to stay in the shower. Eventually I ran out of things to do, and sadly departed from the shower.

Getting dressed seemed to take ages, as I couldn't properly decide what to wear. I wanted to leave most of my 'nicer' clothes for the weekend, and was therefore left with the scrubby rejects. Feeling even more dejected, I put together a rather bland outfit. I tied on a pretty scarf to try to spice it up a bit, but wasn't thoroughly impressed. A sub-par effort, if I'd ever seen one.

Next I tackled my hair. It was the only thing that went my way, and I was fairly pleased with the result; a smooth and shiny layer of blond locks cascading down my back and over my shoulders. My hair is finally starting to get to a decent length, and impresses me most days. It just needs a colouring. I'll work on that soon.

Anyways, I got into school this morning feeling a bit rubbish as a result of my lackluster start. I went through the paces at the staff briefing, gulped down my coffee, and then collected my tutor group for our Thursday morning Orwell House assembly. I was horrified to have to sit through a twenty minute assembly on God. Hearing the very mention of God in a public school is beyond shocking for me, coming from the Canadian system. You don't talk about religion in a public school in Canada; it's just not done. Especially not at an assembly. That's what Catholic schools are for. They can cram the religion down your throat, but at least you have to choose to be there. I disagreed immensely with the assembly this morning. It felt like they were throwing God at me, and I wasn't buying into it. The kids also looked slightly uncomfortable sometimes, which made it worse. It was just a bizarre experience. I almost walked out, when one of the presenters started talking about 'thinking for yourself, by following God'. Seems a bit contradictory, no?

Anyways, having choked my way through the assembly, I prepared myself for the rest of my day. It went fairly smoothly. My 8s were a bit off the wall, but nothing I couldn't handle. My top set 11s were decent enough, though they weren't too thrilled at the prospect of doing Poetry for the rest of the term. Too bad for them! I did manage to get quite a few amazing drawings out of them though, as a response to Helene Johnson's 'Sonnet to a Negro in Harlem'. I've got some artists in my class, it would seem. I was impressed. I read the first chapter of 'Of Mice and Men' to my bottom year 11s. I can honestly say it was the first time they'd been quiet for an entire class period. Ever. It was so nice, really. Reading, for me, is very relaxing, so reading aloud to them was a delight. They were also following along, as I could hear them turning the pages as I did. This is a definite improvement over their usual performance; I didn't have to nag anyone to stay on task! They also answered my questions after, with genuinely good answers. I couldn't ask for more.

My 10s were a bit of a struggle, but I got them in the end. The fact that they clearly respect me helps a lot, so I was able to use the respect card to get them back on track.

The biggest surprise of the day was my 9s though. They were, shock of all shocks, actually fairly well behaved for me today. There was a bizarre incident though, before class started...

...one of the boys, who always arrives early, walked into the room and said, 'Oh, Miss Carson! I am surprised to see you here. There were rumours that you'd been sacked!'
'Excuse me?!' I asked, whirling around to face him. I was truly shocked to hear this, as it was definitely news to me.
'Yah, people were saying you got sacked,' he said, as if it were no big deal.
'Who? Who has been saying that?' I prodded.
'Oh...I dunno...just lots of people,' he said.
'Students, or teachers?' I asked.
'Oh....students...' he said, clearly getting a bit uncomfortable.
I decided to leave him alone, 'Weird. Well, I haven't been sacked, cuz here I am!'
A few other students walked in, all expressing surprise to see me.
'Miss! If you'd been sacked, I would have staged a protest!' one of the boys said.
I smiled, glad to hear that I had some supporters. I had to spend a few minutes assuring the class I hadn't been sacked, and then carried on with the lesson.

We're doing persuasion, so I had them watch Obama's acceptance speech in Chicago and analyse the effectiveness of his speech. I was happy to see them able to pick out all the effective elements of his speech. I think we had one of our most productive lessons to date. For the first time ever they left the room without me feeling as if nothing had been accomplished. I think it's also the first Thursday since I've come here that I haven't felt totally frazzled at the end of the day. What a welcome change. I can only hope that things will continue on this way.

The decent-ness of my day did not, however, push away the pervasive feeling of gloom that'd been hanging over me all day. I just feel utterly exhausted, and I'm not really sure why. Perhaps it's just that time of year. I feel mentally drained, and it's starting to affect me physically. I find myself wishing away the days, hoping for Christmas and the return trip to my family to come sooner.

Sitting here at the end of the day, I was trying to think of things I could do to give myself the relief I crave, when it struck me that I've been missing something simple. I've been missing the simple act of picking up my kitty, Gabriel, and being able to hug him and feel instantly better. It's one thing to hug a person and get that release, but its something totally different when it's a pet. I remember reading somewhere that old age homes and hospitals that allow pets to visit with the patients see a marked improvement in attitude. Animals somehow bring out a happy feeling within us. Maybe it's because they love us unconditionally, or maybe it's just that we crave something small to hold against our bodies sometimes. For me, I know I like to bury my nose in the soft, warm fuzz on the top of Gabriel's head and just breath in. That may sound bizarre, but it's strangely relaxing for me. He's such a fluffy kitty, so holding him is like holding a big puffy lump of warmth. Mind you, he's got quite a lot of attitude, and doesn't stand to be held for long by ANYONE, myself included. When push comes to shove though, he could always tell when I needed to be able to smother him with hugs and kisses, and grudgingly allowed me to do so. No one else, my mother aside, has been able to do this to him, so I think it's because I'm his 'Mama'.

Anyways, today I really realized how much I missed doing that. I wish I could go home right now, walk through my door, and call out 'Gabriel!'. He'd come running down, I'd scoop him up, and bury my face in his, smelling the dewy soft scent that is the top of his head. Oh how I miss that.

I only hope that in the months since I've been gone he hasn't forgotten me. It would crush me to go home and have him growl and hiss at me as he does most other people. My fingers are crossed that my scent and my voice remain embedded in his deep subconscious, and that hearing and smelling me will trigger instant recognition. They say cats have a terrible memory, so I truly am hoping that his inner instinct will work in my favour.

Honestly, the first thing I do when I enter the house in Tillsonburg is going to be to call his name and hunt him down. He owes me a hug, and I intend to collect.

Anyways, I am going to try to persuade Rachel to hit the road soon. I don't relish being here much longer; it's already 5:30 and it's not getting any earlier. Besides, I have a dinner to make tonight, for a very lovely young man, and I'd like to get started on that as soon as possible.

Cheers.