Sunday

This year, as I've adjusted to my new position as a literacy coach, I'm finding that Sundays have a different rhythm.  Since 1993, Sunday afternoons and evenings have meant going over lesson plans and grading papers, spending hours at my desk in the basement or with my lapdesk on the couch while a movie played in the background.  I would fall into bed exhausted, head aching after hours of reading and commenting on student work.

Now that I'm not in the classroom, I don't have papers to grade.  I can plan my time during the week to get my work done on weekday evenings while my own children are working on their homework.  Paperwork doesn't pile up the way it used to, since I actually deal in very little paper at all.  The data from our assessments is entered into spreadsheets, so instead of reading piles of papers, I stare at a screen and sort and resort data in different ways, trying to make sense of the lessons hidden within. I have only five students in my literacy intervention, so lesson planning is for just one group, and their work is easily assessed after school each afternoon.

Sunday evenings now are still not relaxing, but they are different.  Instead, I spend them supervising last-minute homework, helping my younger daughter write her reading response, finishing the laundry  so the oldest has her gym suit for PE and making sure our calendar for the week is under control.

It still seems weird to be able to be Mom on Sundays instead of Mrs. Rench.