After this week, I can tell you this God story:

Two years ago I could not get my sub application through the education system.  For three months I made weekly calls, showed up at the district office, talked to the educators I knew.  And then I walked away and pursued other opportunities.  I picked up skills as a social worker.  I did a bit of office work for a friend.  I started to work on a lengthy piece of writing.  I got involved mentoring teens and helping at a local youth group.

I let my certificate expire because I was sure that my teaching years were in the past and that He was moving me towards something new.  I was sure because I was bitter and resentful.  I was cold towards the small town education culture that relies heavily on networking and not so heavily on resumes.

Last year, I was called for an interview as a math specialist at one of the elementary schools.  I shrugged to God.  Told Him that math wasn't really my thing You know that and that children  were not really my passion anymore I'm into shaping those crazy teens now, God.  But I was a little bored.  And office work isn't really my thing either.  So I started moving into classrooms again, pulling little darlings to go over their numbers.  And my heart began to warm.  Of course it did.

At the end of last year, my fabulous principal called me into his office and asked me how I saw myself fitting next year.  I asked for a classroom.  I asked for a teacher role.  And I asked for older kids.  I was given the lowest math group in the school.  I was given common core curriculum.  And I was given students from the upper grades-- students who have struggled for years, grade levels behind.

Gulp.

Last week all of the administrators in the district and the superintendent toured our little school.  I was told they would maybe pop their heads in.   I was told not to worry at all Just keep doing your thing, you don't have anything to worry about.  

Good thing I'm an overachieving freak.  Good thing I already show up an hour early on normal days and good thing I stopped for that third cup of coffee on the way into school.  Because that group of in-charge-educators did not just pop in.  They pulled up chairs and camped.  During my Mrs C, I didn't take my meds again today class.  My we go over the rules everyday in here because I have the school bullies all together in one room class that lasts ninety minutes.  THANKFULLY, this class is also the class that is so pumped to get a little positive attention.  The class that loves to be called brilliant ma'ams and sirs, loves to make me smile, loves to learn how to add large numbers using place value charts and circles and bundling and a thousand other ridiculous common core steps.

I really do have the best kids.

Even if yesterday one of them picked his nasty little nose so hard he bled booger blood all over my table.  And I had to make sure I was standing next to the trash can because I almost lost those three cups of coffee.  Shudder.

By the time that camped out power group left, I was sweating in places I don't think are supposed to sweat.  I was wrung out with pride for my little mathematicians.  I was ready for something other than coffee in my cup...

And later in the day I received very kind, complimentary emails from my principal and the superintendent.  Day made.  God, you are too good.  You gave me a moment I should not have had as a para professional.  You gave me a teacher moment and You blew me away with it.

I thought in that moment that I was the most blessed person on earth.

But then, on the way to class a day later, one of my cute little girl darlings looked up at me and smiled and said Mrs. C, math is my favorite.  I'm going to be a math person when I grow up.  And my heart almost burst for a girl who has struggled for years with making sense of numbers.  A girl who now nearly leaps out of her chair when I call out a question from the front.  A girl who is going places, who is going to grow up.

Day made?  No.  Year made.