Today I got an 8:25 AM call that a teacher came to work but wasn't feeling well. I had been laying in bed reading, but jumped up, took a 5 minute shower, dried body and hair, grabbed an outfit, and made it into the middle school office within 35 minutes. The poor teacher looked miserable, so I was eager to do anything I could to let her leave asap.

The kids were spec ed. Far from non functional, mostly hispanic, but several with apparent psychological or physiological needs. It went OK. It actually went very well. The para left me with gracious words by the end of the day.

By the last period, the activity the teacher planned for me to use in most classes had already been done on the class present. So we read a little, then took turns on computer, and talked. One cute hispanic girl responded when I asked questions about herself and her family. We were interrupted several times, but when the interruption passed, she went on, "... so my mom did (this or that), or my sister....." Another boy had just been in the US for 3 months but was doing daily practice on words and sounds, with dictation, spelling, and reading. He had excellent comprehension and speech for only 3 months of English.

I probably won't get back there again, even tho the para said she'd recommend me. I did enjoy the class. This has become a part of life where I accept that my job was to pass through and plant some seeds, then pray for the process someone else will watch mature. I don't worry about how they handle it anymore. There are lots of good teachers doing their best, and being very effective. We have an excellent system in WA; I wish mykids' systems were as supportive. I pray for the kids I saw today, kids I'll see on Friday when I sub a math class I've done about 3 times, pray I'll be up to it, not be short or blind to what "games" they try or what they really can teach me.

My greatest lesson in this time is that it isn't about me. Tonight I am awake at 3 am -- haven't made the snooze yet. Who knows why? So tomorrow will be pretty fruitless. But the next day I have a call for working pre-school, so I'll need to sleep tomorrow. But what I do is about the footprints I leave, not the name or a post. I am one nail in the structure they are becoming. Each nail counts, and I want to do my best, that the rungs hung on my watch are strong and hung with confidence.

Life is good at 54, just a little different. I wait patiently till I can see grandkids a few times a week, watch them play in the sand, come run to me, or just smile when I come out to watch their play. This is my "something in the meantime", loving kids here till I can love kids there. It will all fit together in the big puzzle.