I've been practicing the Law of Attraction and, more importantly, letting go and trusting in the divine to bring all I need, want, and feel I deserve. That last part is keeping all I want from coming into my circumstance. Letting go of old thought patterns, regarding what I deserve and how things come to me, requires vigilance over allowing old ideas into my reality. For example, I was taught, as were many of us, that I must work hard for what I get in life. With that belief, it's difficult to believe financial abundance will come any other way. I keep reminding myself that I don't have to know how something will manifest, only that it will if I manage to keep my connection to the scared open and uncluttered. I am starting small. I have received conformation,from the PTB that they are listening and giving me what I want...just enough. I'm going to begin asking for more, not only financial abundance, but an abundance of health, love, friendship, etc. Meanwhile, my faith grows stronger. More and more of the time, I know all is well.
In a different vein, I went back to work last week. I'm a special education teacher again. Last year, I taught 8th grade English. I'm not used to classes as big as those were. I've always been a special ed. or reading teacher. I like working with smaller groups. It is so much less stressful and much more effective. I think once I've got a stranglehold on the paperwork, I'm going to like my job. I wrote a piece about my job last year, on another blog that sums up how I feel about what, where, and how I like to teach. It is as follows:
Fringe
I found out what my teaching assignment will be for next year - special ed - grades four, five, and six. I'm OK with that. This year, I taught eighth grade reading, actually, it was literature. I was hired to help out with the gigantic eighth grade class...too many kids, not enough teachers. I knew it was a temporary position. I'm OK with that, too.
I've never been a regular classroom teacher until this year. I was a special ed teacher for thirteen years and a Title 1 reading teacher for nine years. I liked the reading job the best. My current district was hoping to have a full time literacy opening next year, but, alas, funds won't allow for it.
I was torn between wanting the literacy job and wanting a room with a door. I really do not like the pod set up. It's like teaching in a fishbowl condo. There are five rooms along the edges of a common area. The rooms all have floor to ceiling sliding glass doors. As if that weren't bad enough, the doors are designed not to close all the way. So, there is a four foot, open entrance leading to each classroom. I know - it's all the rage...middle school philosophy and all. I hate that set up. The kids are always distracted by what's going on in the other classes, as well as what's going on in the pod. You can hear everything everyone says. You can see everything everyone does. By the way, I hate the word pod. It's creepy. It's reminiscent of that futuristic old horror movie where everyone was taken over by aliens. Whales live in pods. For them, it's a good thing, as Martha Stewart would say. Not so much for eighth graders.
Until this year, I'd always led a rather autonomous existence in the schools in which I've worked. This year, I was entrenched in the eighth grade pod. The other teachers were very helpful to me, the newcomer. I appreciate their efforts. The whole set up is just not me. All the while I was asking the universe for the literacy position, I was also asking for a door. The two don't jive in this situation. The room with the door won out.
I'll be back to setting up my own program. I like having some freedom within the institution that is a public school. It's hard to find. Freedom is not a top priority in a building housing 700 kids for eight hours a day.
My new room is smaller. That's fine. I'll be back to working with smaller groups of kids and, hopefully, feeling like I'm making some kind of a difference for more of them. It's almost impossible to give individual help to a kid when there are twenty plus others also wanting your attention.
My new room will not be in a pod. It will be adjacent to a pod...on the fringe, you might say. Ah, back where I belong.
In a different vein, I went back to work last week. I'm a special education teacher again. Last year, I taught 8th grade English. I'm not used to classes as big as those were. I've always been a special ed. or reading teacher. I like working with smaller groups. It is so much less stressful and much more effective. I think once I've got a stranglehold on the paperwork, I'm going to like my job. I wrote a piece about my job last year, on another blog that sums up how I feel about what, where, and how I like to teach. It is as follows:
Fringe
I found out what my teaching assignment will be for next year - special ed - grades four, five, and six. I'm OK with that. This year, I taught eighth grade reading, actually, it was literature. I was hired to help out with the gigantic eighth grade class...too many kids, not enough teachers. I knew it was a temporary position. I'm OK with that, too.
I've never been a regular classroom teacher until this year. I was a special ed teacher for thirteen years and a Title 1 reading teacher for nine years. I liked the reading job the best. My current district was hoping to have a full time literacy opening next year, but, alas, funds won't allow for it.
I was torn between wanting the literacy job and wanting a room with a door. I really do not like the pod set up. It's like teaching in a fishbowl condo. There are five rooms along the edges of a common area. The rooms all have floor to ceiling sliding glass doors. As if that weren't bad enough, the doors are designed not to close all the way. So, there is a four foot, open entrance leading to each classroom. I know - it's all the rage...middle school philosophy and all. I hate that set up. The kids are always distracted by what's going on in the other classes, as well as what's going on in the pod. You can hear everything everyone says. You can see everything everyone does. By the way, I hate the word pod. It's creepy. It's reminiscent of that futuristic old horror movie where everyone was taken over by aliens. Whales live in pods. For them, it's a good thing, as Martha Stewart would say. Not so much for eighth graders.
Until this year, I'd always led a rather autonomous existence in the schools in which I've worked. This year, I was entrenched in the eighth grade pod. The other teachers were very helpful to me, the newcomer. I appreciate their efforts. The whole set up is just not me. All the while I was asking the universe for the literacy position, I was also asking for a door. The two don't jive in this situation. The room with the door won out.
I'll be back to setting up my own program. I like having some freedom within the institution that is a public school. It's hard to find. Freedom is not a top priority in a building housing 700 kids for eight hours a day.
My new room is smaller. That's fine. I'll be back to working with smaller groups of kids and, hopefully, feeling like I'm making some kind of a difference for more of them. It's almost impossible to give individual help to a kid when there are twenty plus others also wanting your attention.
My new room will not be in a pod. It will be adjacent to a pod...on the fringe, you might say. Ah, back where I belong.
