Hey there! Well, those of you that have been following my blog for awhile know that 4 years ago I stepped into the roll of part-time art teacher here at Arbor Springs Elementary School. It's a non-certified part-time art teaching position. I teach 1st-5th grade Monday-Friday from 7:45-1:45. It's a sweet deal. It has however, it's been a roller coaster of an experience. I am not going to lie. Some-days I literally want to scream. Other days I can't catch a breath. And then someone places an "I love you Mrs. Horne" note on my desk and I cry. It has been a great place for me to come to my senses about what I want to do when I grow up. Since being here I've updated my art teaching certification and added Family and Consumer Science. I have the best friends here....in-particular the front office staff Beverly, Donna, Julie and Rebecca. Good grief when I told them we were all crying and hugging and smiling for joy together. You know you've got it good when you are treated like I was in that moment.
By Sunday morning I was near about stir cray cray from the NON-STOP RAIN. I mean seriously. I live in Georgia, not the African rainforest. Pretty sure my entire body is going to mildew soon from the rain. The sun....not seen it in about a week. I am not even lying. So I just put on my running shoes, got out the old headphones and took off running. It was truly liberating. At one point I stopped, turned my head straight up to the sky and soaked it all in. The sounds, the smells, the cool rain. It was beautiful. I didn't want to stop even though I was soaked. But my stomach said please stop and eat. (more Cookie Butter cake right?)
The paint on the tables.
The smell of the room.
The placement of supplies for everyone to use.
This is the happy room in the school. The room where brains are asked to throw a party. And stretched to the limits only allowed to say "I CAN!!"
The room where spills and messes are routine and embraced as a learning situation. Where breaking a crayon means we now have 2. Where Sharpies come to die. Pencils are tested to the limits. And the poor pink eraser....he's stabbed, written on and rubbed to the core.
These brushes get to party hardy on paper all....the....time. And barely take a bath.
Pretty sure the 6 drying racks chat all night about what's laying on them. Lots and lots of stories in this room if only the walls could talk.
6 weeks left to scatter joy on these munchkins. 6 weeks......