Turtle Days

Some days are turtle days. Like today. Spring-fevered high energy kiddos traipsed into my classroom this morning full of giggles and stories and questions. Like the question, "Miss Gliem, do you want to see my turtle?" Of course, the only feasible answer is, "Sure, what turtle?" Next, little hands reached into little pockets and produced not one, but two turtles. Live, crawling-up-her-sleeve turtles. Correction: some days are two-turtle days.

(Now, two turtle days might seem like a good idea from a distance. But from five inches away with the impending doom of Salmonella poisoning and the press of every student in the room eager for a turtle petting zoo rather than finishing their carefully prepared standards based morning work...let me assure you. Two turtle days are frazzling.
Hysteria inducing.
Hard.)

The adventure in life is that each day is a lotto. Long days, short days, loud days, quiet days, tired days, excited days, turtle days, and who-knows-what-else days.

Yesterday was a hard day, also. Spring fever is no joke; convincing children to settle down to problem-solving arithmetic while the sun is up and the birds are singing often causes heavy doses of teacher discouragement. I thought yesterday was only a hard day. So, after school I met a friend for dinner. We were catching up and commiserating when out of the corner of my eye I thought I recognized someone. On second glance I doubted, but by the third I knew my instincts had been right. It was Michael.

Michael can't have any idea what it meant to me to see him. I've known him since my freshman year of college through an after school program. He was only an elementary school kiddo at the time and I was unconvinced that I was helping change anyone's life by hanging out with unruly kiddos for a few hours on Wednesdays. I had no idea that only a few years later I would get to work with him at school. And that he would choose to work. Because he knew me. Michael is one of those kids I look at and know I want to teach. One of the ones who make everything worthwhile. I hadn't seen him in nearly a year and to see him yesterday meant everything. Some days are Michael days.

The adventure in life is that each day is a lotto. Long days, short days, loud days, quiet days, tired days, excited days, turtle days, and Michael days. But is it a lotto? 

This morning, chuckling over my class's surprise visitors, this verse floated through my mind...

      Proverbs 16:9 The mind of man plans his way,

            But the LORD directs his steps.

Author's note: this blog entry may contain gross miscalculations. Perhaps the worst is the idea that each day is a lotto. Actually, each minute is. You never know what may happen next.