New teacher orientation

I just got home from the new teacher orientation. "Wait," I can hear you asking, "aren't you already teaching?" Oh yes. In fact, this will be my 8th year. I'm so much a veteran now that I'm on the freakin' welcoming committee! Isn't that amazing and weird? Every once in a while, one of my uncles will ask something like "Have you been teaching four or five years now?" No, eight. And I'm thirty-one, and married, and pregnant. Life is a trip.

I stopped by the area where my room is. It's full of ditch-witches and construction guys and rubble. I asked one guy how close I could get before I got yelled at, and he said he thought I'd be okay. I'm actually not sure which room is mine. They're not labeled yet. I suspect it's the middle one in a group of three -- my room is J2, and that seems like the second one in a rational numbering system. The nice thing about that is that if I'm right, I'll be closer to the nearest bathroom by 30 feet. It may seem small to you, but with only 7 minutes to go, and lots of other female teachers to race with, that's important.

I'm going to try to talk later about my wacky neighbors and fat acceptance (two separate issues), but I'm pooped.