First thing that happened this morning: I woke up late, strangely enough, after falling asleep on the couch last night probably around 8 or 9 pm. I thought I would surely wake up in good time the next morning, but I guess my body needed more rejuvenating after all that iron I lost yesterday.
Due to my tardiness, I foolishly skipped breakfast, because leaving the kids at the table while I go down for breakfast would mean leaving N and H with nothing to do. Well, they would have something to do but they would need me there for guidance and supervision. It would be like letting them hang helplessly by a very thin thread. it would also stretch out the school day if I tarried and ate breakfast while they wait for me. So I suppose as a penalty, I denied myself the most important meal of the day.
Turned out to be a very big mistake, as my mood and patience ran very thin amidst the grumbling in my stomach. I snapped more than once and even made H cry. I felt sorry for him and horribly angry at myself. I felt like a snapping turtle who didn't get her morning meal.
For S, today we were supposed to learn about the present progressive tense. When I saw the topic for the lesson, I told her to wait and do it with me. So she went ahead and did her literature and math, which fortunately was quite a breeze for her.
However, my empty stomach probably affected my brain as I struggled to comprehend what I was supposed to teach her. Before this, we had gone over the four principal parts of verbs: present, present participle, past, and past participle. Now there are simple present, present progressive, simple past and past progressive. I mulled over how I would explain it to her without getting confused myself.
Somehow though, I managed to jump over that hurdle but made a mental note to study it further, for I found myself still mulling over the logic of it all.
I had gone over the water cycle so many times with N, and I thought she would know it by now. My assumption was proved wrong. Bristling with annoyance, I told her to read the book by herself and come back to me when she was ready. She did, but she only got past the evaporation part. The condensation part was still vague it seemed like, so I read another book to her. This time she finally got it, I hope. Otherwise, I'd be doing it again with her next Tuesday.
H had some trouble counting syllables. As I told him to do a fist tap for every syllable, I told him to count how many times he tapped. Scrunching up his face and looking lost, he failed. It took him quite some time to get the idea and he had to blow it off by crying. After his bucket of tears was filled, I called him back and we had another go at it. This time, he did better and I even challenged him to count how many syllables there are in his father's name, and then his sister's name. Well, since he got that, my worries are tucked away, safe and sound in a corner I hope I will never have to return to. That's how long her name is.
As for S and me, we had some trouble comprehending air pressure. To my embarassment, as I reveal my idiocy now, I couldn't understand how air pressure inside a balloon is higher than the air pressure outside, after being given an example of pressure inside our bodies pushing out against the air pressure outside. Surely the pressure outside the balloon would be higher thus pressing in against the balloon and forcing the air out. I told S to read one of the books I got from the library yesterday and I sat there staring at the screen, trying to understand what was explained.
After some muttered cursing at the explanation, I came to an understanding and S came to me asking,
"Did you get it?"
Imagine a student asking her teacher if she has finally understood what she was supposed to teach. Shame on me!
So we got over that hurdle but there was another hurdle waiting for me, which is becoming a very prominent feature in the story of my life nowadays.
S couldn't quite understand a low pressure system bearing weather with precipitation and I had severe problems trying to find a way to explain it to her. I can see myself opening and closing my mouth in earnest, explaining away with the help of various hand movements up and down and around while an eight year old sits besides me, dumbfounded and noncomprehending.
the desperation and frustration in me almost drove me to pitiful tears. My face was fighting to scrunch up into a crying expression, but I fought it. Somehow, we got over that hurdle too, but my mind was so drained and ravaged by the whole experience.
In the middle of it all, the phone rang. I explicitly told the kids to leave it,
"Only pick it up if it's Abi or somebody important."
As the answering machine picked it up, I listened. It was my mother. Immediately I reached for the phone hanging on the wall next to my table.
"I just told the kids not to pick up the phone unless it was somebody important. This is someone important," I said to her, and she laughed.
We chatted for a short time as I updated her with my progress in writing, and by the time I hung up, I was in a much better mood than before I picked up the phone. It made me think that maybe an interruption wouldn't be so bad after all.
However, by the time school ended I was mulling in my head how I would fare for the rest of the year. It did feel better once it was over, which made me think that maybe it's just like fasting. You reach a climax in the middle but when it's all over, you're awashed with relief and joy.
I guess, I'll use that mode of thinking to keep me going. Inna maal usri yusra. Inna maal usri yusra.
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