Saturday Morning

Saturday morning. For whatever reason, Saturday mornings have become a bit of a quandary for me. I have no idea why, but I am not able to sleep in on Saturday mornings any more. Everyone else in my house can, but I woke up this morning at little before 5:30, rolled around and listened to the cats run up and down the hall for half an hour or so, and finally got up. I guess it is not a bad thing, really. I got a nice workout before most of the garage sales were set up. I am sipping on my second cup of coffee, and plan to have a third on the back patio (The WiFi does not seem to reach that spot, or I would be there now). I get to enjoy Top 20 Countdown on VH1, which is apparently the only time VH1 or MTV still play music videos. I spotted a new blog post from a friend and fellow teacher, and reading it was time well spent. You should click the link and go read it. So, despite feelings as if I have wasted an opportunity to build up a little credit in the sleep bank, my morning so far has been a good one. I need to take advantage of the chance to grade a few more projects and papers this morning, but we will just have to wait and see if that path develops or remains want of wear.
Oh, and I have the time to blog. Any time one of my friends blogs, I feel a responsibility to step up to the keyboard and do a little writing of my own. It is one of neat advantages of being friends with literate people. Sometimes this compelled writing is inspired by the posts I have just read, sometimes it is in response to those posts, and sometimes it is entirely unrelated. I am not sure where this one will go, but I bet it will go somewhere. Sam's post was about an incident this week at school and some of the situations we, as teachers, face each and every day as we work with our kids. Our kids. I heard myself say that the other day. I was not sure just how I felt about using that phrase, but it comes naturally, so I feel as if it must be right. I have two of my own children, my kids, and they are the center of my world. They are amazing human beings who are growing into their own persons, taking that base clay of genetics with which they were endowed and molding it, with the help of so many great people, from grandparents to friends to teachers, into the unique individuals that they are becoming.  So, I wondered if I was being unfair to Emily and Dylan by referring to the young people that I spend so much time with in my classroom, on the field, and in the weightroom. I don't think so, but I wonder sometimes. In addition, I have been told more than once that the word "kid" is too informal and can be almost insulting. "What are they? Goats?" I never have seen it that way. I agree that it is informal. However, I also grew up with a Nana and a Grandma, not two grandmothers. I had a Grampie and a Grandpa, not two grandfathers. Mother and Father are more likely to be used around Mom and Dad in sarcastic formality by my brother than in sincere reverence. And yet, not once have I used such terms with a hint of disrespect or insult. Quite the opposite. The same goes for calling Emily "Sweets" when she walks into my classroom throughout the day or referring to Dylan as "Bubba" when I ask him how his day went.
Hmm. I am probably thinking far more about that than I need to. Oh well, at least I am thinking about something, right? Or not. Whatever.
My coffee cup is empty, the patio is calling my name, and "Dark Horse" just came on VH1. I liked that song the first 7000 times it was on the radio. This week. On every station.  So, I will close out this post. Enjoy the Saturday. You deserve it.