TAKING A HIT OFF THE MENTAL BONG
I talked with my friend Carrie yesterday afternoon.
I can't speak for Carrie, but I miss her to pieces. Carrie and I are crazy, insane, teaching fiends, and the funny thing is, we are almost exactly alike. We are stubborn and pig-headed and willful and insanely driven at times, and usually, at NUMEROUS points during the school year, we've got to be talked off our ledges.
Carrie is the very first colleague I crumbled into tears in front of when I was overwhelmed about a situation with one of my students. Being Carrie, she was totally cool with my blubbering, listened to it all, and then suggested we go eat sour cream and chive fries. I LOVE this about Carrie! Carries gets that Charlie's Sour Cream and Chive Fries will cure just about anything.
Carrie also gets me, and let's face it, that, in itself, can be a full-time job. Things that come out of my mouth, that most folks would just be horrified or confused about, Carrie just laughs in that awesome belly-laugh of hers, and it's her way of telling me, "dude, it's all good!"
So, today, I was telling Carrie that I have turned over a new leaf. I am much more calm ... much more mellow ... I am cool ... I am serene ... I've gone to a new level in my ability to teach children.
The conversation went something like this ...
"I've decided I'm not going to get stressed about stuff I can no longer control. So, I've turned over a new leaf. I am cool ... I am calm ... I am collected. Shoot! I am almost Zen like!"
Carrie started laughing. I LOVE her laugh.
"Oh, yeah, it's like I've taken a hit on a mental bong!"
There is a pause in the conversation, when I think Carrie is thinking, 'Oh my gosh, she's actually cracked!' But really, it was just Carrie winding up with one of the biggest laughs I've heard her have ... I. MISS. THAT. LAUGH.
"I think I need a hit on your mental bong, dude!" Carrie stammers when she finally catches her breath.
"Oh it's the greatest, Carrie. For instance, today, I dealt with two kids that were intent on killing each other at walk n talk. Now, the one kid got popped in the eye by the other kid. I got him some ice to put on it, and he shouts at me 'I DON'T WANT THAT!' Now, see, the old me would have yelled right back. But the new, Zen me, leaned over, got right in his face, and in the sweetest voice, I said, 'Now, see, if that had been me, I would have said, thanks but no thanks. That would have been the most appropriate response,' to which the kid shouted back, 'I DON'T WANT IT, THANK YOU!' Meanwhile, our secretary was staring at me like I had a third eye."
Carrie started laughing again. "She hasn't met the new Zen you, then?"
I can't speak for Carrie, but I miss her to pieces. Carrie and I are crazy, insane, teaching fiends, and the funny thing is, we are almost exactly alike. We are stubborn and pig-headed and willful and insanely driven at times, and usually, at NUMEROUS points during the school year, we've got to be talked off our ledges.
Carrie is the very first colleague I crumbled into tears in front of when I was overwhelmed about a situation with one of my students. Being Carrie, she was totally cool with my blubbering, listened to it all, and then suggested we go eat sour cream and chive fries. I LOVE this about Carrie! Carries gets that Charlie's Sour Cream and Chive Fries will cure just about anything.
Carrie also gets me, and let's face it, that, in itself, can be a full-time job. Things that come out of my mouth, that most folks would just be horrified or confused about, Carrie just laughs in that awesome belly-laugh of hers, and it's her way of telling me, "dude, it's all good!"
So, today, I was telling Carrie that I have turned over a new leaf. I am much more calm ... much more mellow ... I am cool ... I am serene ... I've gone to a new level in my ability to teach children.
The conversation went something like this ...
"I've decided I'm not going to get stressed about stuff I can no longer control. So, I've turned over a new leaf. I am cool ... I am calm ... I am collected. Shoot! I am almost Zen like!"
Carrie started laughing. I LOVE her laugh.
"Oh, yeah, it's like I've taken a hit on a mental bong!"
There is a pause in the conversation, when I think Carrie is thinking, 'Oh my gosh, she's actually cracked!' But really, it was just Carrie winding up with one of the biggest laughs I've heard her have ... I. MISS. THAT. LAUGH.
"I think I need a hit on your mental bong, dude!" Carrie stammers when she finally catches her breath.
"Oh it's the greatest, Carrie. For instance, today, I dealt with two kids that were intent on killing each other at walk n talk. Now, the one kid got popped in the eye by the other kid. I got him some ice to put on it, and he shouts at me 'I DON'T WANT THAT!' Now, see, the old me would have yelled right back. But the new, Zen me, leaned over, got right in his face, and in the sweetest voice, I said, 'Now, see, if that had been me, I would have said, thanks but no thanks. That would have been the most appropriate response,' to which the kid shouted back, 'I DON'T WANT IT, THANK YOU!' Meanwhile, our secretary was staring at me like I had a third eye."
Carrie started laughing again. "She hasn't met the new Zen you, then?"
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