What day is it?

Who’s the President?

Did Paula Abdul and Simon Cowell ever get together?


For those who know, which I’m sure all of you do because I’ve been shouting it from every rooftop in every neighborhood in the city (remind me to hit up Riverbend tomorrow – forgot about that one), I am a teacher.

I know, I know. Me. A teacher. I was hired to teach youths things. I can’t believe it either.

But it’s true, b words. Call me Ms. Heckel from here on out, cuz the K-a-i-tlyn AIN’T LISTENIN’.

Just kidding. I’m listening. I’m always listening.

Anyway, I have been in school for the past week going through something called Professional Development, or “PD” if you’re a cool teacher. Like me. Professional Development, I have gathered, is a time when the principal stands in front of her loyal congregation of teachers and talks about professional things like how the school is run while us teachers eat snacks.

It’s exhausting.

I spent an hour debating on whether or not to eat this organic vanilla almond granola bar I took from the snack area because I wasn’t sure if I was a) bored or b) truly hungry.

I wasn’t truly hungry.

Ate it anyway.

Verdict: good, not great. Would not buy with my own dollas.

So we had a week of PD. 7:30am-3:30pm before moving into our campuses/classrooms to begin classroom prep, etc. before the kids make their arrival on Tuesday (WHICH IS TOMORROW). Because I am teaching Talented Theatre, I don’t have a classroom. I also float between both campuses, which is cool. I’m a gypsy at heart anyway. Such a FrEe sPiRiTtTt*~

So, for most of last week, and all day today, I’ve been stationed in my comfy corner in the library working on paperwork, aka I’ve been sitting all day staring at a computer screen and it is driving me NUTS and making me EXHAUSTED. Seriously, I just ate a boatload of fruit to regain my energy levels. At least being a teacher will save me from scurvy.

It won’t be like this forever. Once I get my crop of students (should be ~2 weeks), I’ll be running all over the place like the melodramatic lass that I am. And I cannot wait. Today, I drafted up a rough outline of Greek Theatre and I can’t wait to teach my kids all about Dionysus and Thespis and have them create masks and try really hard not to reference Lysistrata and boners. It’ll be a swell (heads out of the gutter, please) time in Ms. Heckel’s class!

Ms. Heckel?

Ms. H?

Ms. Hot Mama?

Which one? Open to suggestions.

Long story short, being a teacher is the scariest thing I have ever committed to aside from my very first relationship which only lasted three months because he liked Slipknot a beautiful profession, which I have gained a true respect for.

It requires so much work, you guys. It isn’t just walking into a room and blabbering about the equator or equations or how Equal is bad for you nonsense. It involves remembering like, two hundred passwords, knowing students by name, knowing the material you’re teaching, writing tests, downloading this app on your iPhone called Class Dojo that has an alien as an icon, remembering to pack your lunch even though you know you won’t have time to eat it, morning duty, lunch duty, afternoon duty, weekly PDs (aka SNACK TIME), picking out something to wear every morning. The list goes on and on. Truly. It’s ongoing. Like my headache.

But I’m truly honored and blessed to have this job. This career. It’s pretty remarkable to, at the age of 23, be trusted with youths and a laptop. Someone upstairs loves me. And I bet it’s Michael Jackson.

Unplugging for the day. If you need me, I’ll be at mass confessing my sins so I can receive communion and THEN pray for God’s guidance, because it’s been over a year since my last confession, so if I don’t confess first, my prayers aren’t heard.


Talk to y’all soon,

Ms. H

What do you think?