Each morning I awake and perform the usual tasks: shower, read, write, put the finishing touches on a lesson plan. Before I know it, it's already 9:20 and I've barely made and eaten breakfast. I gulp down the last bites, then rush to brush and floss, then out the door.
I can usually make it with this late breakfast to 4:00 p.m. when I leave school ravenously hungry. So hungry, all I can think about is food. If Tony's home, I can't even talk to him before I make a sandwich.
Yesterday, I heard the school secretary say there was food in the teacher's lounge for everyone, and I headed back in like a hungry teenager. Alas, it was all gone because there are other ravenous teachers who fail to make lunch too.
I came back to class and another teacher had sent an email alert about taco soup she'd made for everyone. I rushed back again, not in my right mind, peeked into the crock pot and the many takers had left a few scoops in the bottom, hamburger chunks galore. Well, I don't eat meat, so I pulled myself together and went back responsibly to my responsibilities.
Who am I? I asked.
Still unaware of the need to make changes quickly, the secretary stopped by my class with a peanut butter granola bar. "This is for you. Do you eat peanut butter?" How desperate had I been?
I gratefully snatched it from her hand, opened it and ate it during class, which I try not to do--eat during class...
I need help, I sighed to myself.
So last night, we went to the store and I stockpiled. I opened a bag of beans as per the package instructions to soak them over night. This morning, before I showered, read, and wrote, I washed chopped, stirred, massaged the kale, and juiced.
The rest could wait; I needed to take care of myself.
I can usually make it with this late breakfast to 4:00 p.m. when I leave school ravenously hungry. So hungry, all I can think about is food. If Tony's home, I can't even talk to him before I make a sandwich.
Yesterday, I heard the school secretary say there was food in the teacher's lounge for everyone, and I headed back in like a hungry teenager. Alas, it was all gone because there are other ravenous teachers who fail to make lunch too.
I came back to class and another teacher had sent an email alert about taco soup she'd made for everyone. I rushed back again, not in my right mind, peeked into the crock pot and the many takers had left a few scoops in the bottom, hamburger chunks galore. Well, I don't eat meat, so I pulled myself together and went back responsibly to my responsibilities.
Who am I? I asked.
Still unaware of the need to make changes quickly, the secretary stopped by my class with a peanut butter granola bar. "This is for you. Do you eat peanut butter?" How desperate had I been?
I gratefully snatched it from her hand, opened it and ate it during class, which I try not to do--eat during class...
I need help, I sighed to myself.
So last night, we went to the store and I stockpiled. I opened a bag of beans as per the package instructions to soak them over night. This morning, before I showered, read, and wrote, I washed chopped, stirred, massaged the kale, and juiced.
The rest could wait; I needed to take care of myself.
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