True Tales of a Teacher

 For the longest time I used to be a fan of the soap opera, Days of Our Lives. I used to look forward to those afternoons where I would plop on my couch with either lunch or a snack to watch the dramatic trials and tribulations of the many ridiculous soap opera characters that were backstabbing their best friend or sneakily planning to sabotage their worst enemy's life. When I'm at school, sometimes I feel like I'm in a soap opera or on episode of the "Real Housewives of...." also known as what I say to my husband periodically, "The Real Teachers of Perfectville." I do not like drama. I'm not a dramatic person. I'm a problem solver. I also hate conflict because I grew up in a house that was constantly battling conflict or my mother was 99.9% in a mood to be nasty to our family. When I see or hear about "who did what, when, where and how?" I try to turn the other ear. I know sometimes gossip is needed and happens with myself occasionally...

I came from a dysfunctional family; my mother was divorced, remarried, had many mental health problems and we always struggled financially.  I was alone a lot as a kid so I would find creative ways to entertain myself in my small, dingy apartment. I had a small room and a large closet that slid on wheels, basically a cheaper version of the trendy barn doors that was popular in every suburban house inspired by the show Fixer Upper . It was on these closet doors is where I had m y earliest memory of wanting to be a teacher. I was 8 years old and one of my favorite things to collect were stuffed animals. They were my friends, my armor at night when I made a fort wall of all of them to protect myself from "monsters" under my bed and they listened to me when no one else would.  I had my favorites lined up each weekend to "play school." They would sit in their Motley Crue of a group: Bugs Bunny, Tasmanian Devil, Barbie, Honey Jo teddy bear and Softy Mouse just to name...