Kristi Kahl/00-01/Diary Entry 8

Entry # 8: Taking Care of Business

I got back from a wonderful two-week-plus-one-day vacation over the holidays. I am proud to say I only worked two days, so I really got some rest -- and some perspective.

On Friday of this first week back, a teacher was in my office, going over the latest pages of the yearbook. I've been especially worried about my approach to the yearbook because I know I made some waves when I eliminated the "Biggest Flirt" and "Cutest Couple" photos and captions from an earlier set of pages. The kids were very annoyed with me, but I truly believe that those things are not what we should be spotlighting in a yearbook.

In my mind, it is completely inappropriate for a middle school to be condoning "couples" and "flirting" at this age. Call me old-fashioned. Call in the ACLU. It isn't going to be published on my watch.

Uniformity

All was looking good until I spotted a picture with a student out of uniform. I was reluctant to say something because I know how much work the yearbook is, and the teacher had a 48-hour deadline she was working on. But alas, my steadfast belief that we need to stick to our guns on uniforms won over the soft spot in my heart.

"I'm afraid we will not be able to use that one" I said, pointing to a girl wearing a striped tank top under khaki overalls. Much to my surprise, she agreed, and was willing to retake the photograph.

The previous day, I was told to call a parent who wanted to opt her son out of our uniforms. I was surprised, because it was January, and I figured we would already have had these discussions if parents were unhappy, and so far, we had no opt outs at all. I was prepared for her anger, but it didn't really come. In fact, she didn't really want to opt him out, she just wanted to be able to send him in jeans when she didn't have time to do the laundry, and didn't want him pulled out of class and questioned about what he was wearing. I told her we could live with that, and she agreed to send him in uniform. No opt out. I wiped my brow and sighed in relief (and of course, notified his teachers not to mention it if he wears jeans). So far, this week I was taking care of business and doing a pretty good job of it.

As we scanned the last set of yearbook pages, another teacher walked in the room. To be honest, I cannot remember why now -- I must have blocked it out of my head in an attempt to forget the interaction altogether -- but three of her words stuck with me: "Are you pregnant?" "What!?" I replied incredulously. "Well," she continued, "there's talk from the staff, you know, since we have two pregnant teachers, I guess people were kinda thinking you were pregnant, too." "No, just fat," was the only reply I could muster. She apologized and quickly left the office.

The teacher in charge of the yearbook tried to make me feel better by telling me that her students ask her that all of the time. It didn't help. I had a hard time concentrating on the rest of the pages. Uniforms or no uniforms, I wanted this meeting to be over. Close to tears (but smiling on the outside), I thanked her and she left.

Taking care of business

It seems there are two kinds of eaters. Those who eat more when they are stressed out, and those who eat less. I think you can probably guess which category I fit into. The sad truth is, I've gained 10 pounds since the school year started. I had gone back to Weight Watchers the week before Christmas, and was proud that I hadn't gained any weight over the holiday vacation. But each time my stress levels go up, I make poor food choices. (For those of you who've never struggled with weight, "poor food choices" is a euphemism for "pigging out.")

What I learned from this interaction is that I need to take care of business, not only at school, but for myself as well. The Assistant Principal and I are trying to bring workout clothes at least two days each week, and use our fabulous fitness center. I'm bringing my lunch to work so I don't end up eating what the kids are eating (or four or five donuts if I forget to grab the cafeteria burrito). Baby steps, I keep telling myself. In addition, I have scheduled a doctor's appointment for a physical (haven't had one since my 20-month old was born) and a dentist appointment. Next on my list are a facial and a massage.

And although I hesitate to state that my New Year's resolution is to lose weight, I am OK with saying that I'm going to be taking care of business for me.