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| Who says playground equipment is only for the little ones? |
54 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road
I don't believe I could have crammed more into any single day than what I did today. Since it was the first day of classes, I made sure I met the students as each entered the front door. We either gave each other a high five or bumped fists. I also was the recipient of multiple hugs. I like those the best.
Either way, all entered the school smiling.
I was busy all day. Whether it was observing various classes, helping out the new teachers, or supervising one activity or the other, I was on the go.
It was a big day for the four and five year olds who learned the bus rules.
I also did an hour of playground duty. The teachers were all busy and it was a nice day. What the heck, there are worse things in the world than being surrounded by munchkins on a near perfect day.
With the first day of school ended and pronounced a success, I locked my office door, bid Miss Holly, the school secretary, goodbye, and called it a day. I wanted to get home and resume work on the garden house.
Most of the covering on the front was added tonight.
It was a bit tricky measuring and cutting out the curved windows, but in the end, it came out okay.
With cold weather closing in, I have to continually remind myself that this pond/garden house project is a process. No way will everything be finished this year.
Sargie was in Iron Mountain all day babysitting with great niece, Aria, while Sasha was working. Auntie Sargie said the day flew by and baby Aria was an absolute angel.
I'll be back at the home of the Bobkitties tomorrow doing whatever it is principals of elementary schools do. If Thursday is anything like today, I'll enjoy myself a great deal. The physical education teacher will be gone for a couple of hours during the afternoon and rather than trying to find a sub, I told her I'd teach those classes for her.
It's about time to climb the stairs to our bedroom. This old educator's tank is running on empty. It's time for bed.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
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