Writing with My Left Hand

Last Wednesday I ended up in a second grade classroom.

Eek!

(It's a rather long and complicated story involving my assignment on Tuesday, the new sub caller, and my not paying enough attention to early morning wake up calls.)

The teacher was at school when I arrived. She was a bit frantic, as the thing that was taking her away from school that day had happened so last minute that she did not have lesson plans prepared. (She did not explain nor did I ask what her emergency was. Some things are private, and I respect that.)

I tried to get a handle on what needed doing. And figure out the class' schedule. All the while clamping down on my panic at being thrust into a second grade class. The teacher was having a rough enough day. She didn't need to know that her sub had no business being in a room with children under 12.

It was very odd. Since the district is the same, the buildings looked just like the buildings at the high school. For a moment, I felt like a high school class would walk in any minute. Then the little 7-year-olds arrived, and I had to shift into little kid mode. It's not a mode I work in, so it was odd to say the least.

But, it wasn't as bad as I had feared. (The last time I did elementary things were decidedly different. Bad. Very bad.) Somehow I managed to make it through.

The day kind of felt like if I had tried to write with my left hand. While I know what needs to be done, the muscles aren't as accustomed to what my brain wants them to do. So, it's all harder to do. Takes more time. I'm slower. But, I can get it done.

Although, I'm much happier when I can just do the easier thing and work with older kids.