Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Thank God I'm not a Brain Surgeon

So tomorrow I'm going back to work--just for a few hours, a Thursday morning poetry-teaching gig to last me through summer--but I'm terrified. I'm afraid I'll walk in and start counting toes and talking about piggies going to market; I'll holler out Old MacDonald and sing tweet tweet tweet; I'll make raspberries and say A-goo and roll 'em up, roll 'em up, throw 'em in a pan.

I don't know how women do it. I understand why they would want to or why they might need to, but really, I've been wearing this mommy hat [trust me: the hat-hair (read: wild garbled unwashed mess) is evidence] for so long now that putting on my working hat--let alone buttoning my working pants!--seems next to impossible.

Hello, I will say, I'm your poetry teacher, and I'll cross my fingers that I don't have poop on my shoulder or milk spots on my shirt. What is poetry? I'll ask them. The light will stream through the windows, and hopefully, someone will raise a hand and say something--anything--because right now, I'm not sure what I'd say if the room stayed silent.


Zoe Ryder White said...

Even if the room stays silent, you can say, well sometimes silence is poetry, eh? You're gonna be so fine - those kiddos are lucky to have you back in the saddle. and yes, sooon. when? friday?

Maggie May said...

How wonderful. I wish I was taking your class.

Lazy Mom Amanda said...

Good luck!!!

Linsey said...

I'll be there showing u off... & don't worry about silence, trust me, they will adore u, just like the rest of us already do!!! Let the rain kiss it away... U ROCK, NICOLE THE POET!!!

Helios said...

Good luck tomorrow. I know you'll do great...and I'm so impressed by you jumping back into the pool. :)
Can't wait to hear about it on Friday.