Subject: RE: Desperate for Help: Handling Post-Covid Social Struggles in Kindergarten

Dear Emma (and the ever-vigilant Emotional Support Goat Team),

First of all, thank you for your response. It was exactly what I needed to keep from eating my own hair in frustration. The humor—spot on. The goats—10/10 would recommend. After reading your reply, I realized I might be doing this whole "teaching" thing wrong, because frankly, I've spent the last few weeks looking like the human embodiment of the "Why did I become a teacher?" meme. I don't want to be a meme anymore and I don't want to be alone in the dark, hiding in my classroom. I want to be brave.

I have to admit, I'm starting to suspect that my students could probably use a goat, too. Let me paint you a picture of my current reality:

• The Runner (a.k.a. "The Future Olympic Sprinter") has apparently made it his life mission to make me chase him around the classroom at least three times before 9:30 AM. He's so fast that I'm beginning to think the school is secretly offering him track and field scholarships. (I'd be jealous, but frankly, I'm too out of breath to care.). My fellow staff members have been so amazing being able to build an obstacle course to keep him in place. Bless them. It takes a village.
• The Screamer is convinced that every moment spent away from her mom is a fate worse than death. She screams so loudly, I'm pretty sure the neighbors think I'm holding a hostage negotiation every day at 11 AM. This is, of course, followed by a dramatic collapse on the floor, because apparently, being 5 years old is more stressful than running a Fortune 500 company.
• Then there's Green Day, who has some serious authority issues. Not in the "I don't want to follow directions" way, but more of a "I WILL STAB YOU WITH SAFETY SCISSORS IF YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO" vibe. I don't know what he's planning to do with the scissors, but frankly, I'd rather not find out.
• The Dinosaur Kid—he insists he is, in fact, a velociraptor. This is fine, except for the fact that his "bite" is extremely realistic, and he seems to think it's my job to play along. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to teach him how to "roar" or "hunt," but I know my arm feels like it's been gnawed on for a full hour every time he gently "bites" me.
• Oh, and let's not forget The Spitfire, who demonstrated some amazing gross motor skills recently when she sat on a classmate and then proceeded to spit on her. I mean, it takes a lot of coordination to pull that off, so honestly, I was almost considering giving her a 10 for her technique.

I have diligently followed all the required reporting structures but, quite frankly, I do not think the principal is equipped to escalate to the Olympic Development Agency, Jurassic Park, or Rock Camp. The parents seem to know less than I, how to successfully navigate these children to inevitable future stardom and G.O.A.T.ness. And this has inevitably resulted in the complaints. Because, naturally, every single one of these perfect little cherubs has a parent who is shocked—shocked, I tell you—that their child would ever exhibit such behaviors. They're absolutely certain their angel would never bite, run, scream, or try to stab anyone with safety scissors. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if I'm teaching in an alternate universe where I'm the problem and these kids are actually perfect.

At this point, I'm just hoping to survive until summer, preferably with my sanity intact. So I'll admit, I pressed 3 for the Exorcism because at this point, I'm ready to try anything. Especially for The Jennifer, I feel like this is 'low-hanging fruit' and will help me assist the rest of my class. I will feel much better and enhance the room calmness ambience if she would stop with the weird voices and 360 head spin. I imagine they'd be more effective than my current attempts to create "safe spaces" in the corner (which The Runner usually uses as a launchpad for his next sprint).

In all seriousness, though, I'd love to hear any more specific strategies you have for managing these types of behaviors—especially the biting, running, screaming, and occasional impromptu wrestling matches. I'm also open to any advice on how to not lose it when parents continue to tell me how perfect their children are while I'm over here on the verge of staging a dramatic resignation (or nap, depending on the day).

And if you could get back to me before I go full "I am the teacher, and also the snack monitor, bouncer, and mediator," that'd be great. At this point, I just need you to un-judge me for binge-eating crackers in the supply closet and calling it "self-care."

Looking forward to hearing from you,
A Sane Teacher Who's Considering Turning Her Classroom into a Petting Zoo 

Welcome to the Teacher Helpdesk

Thank you for calling the "Why Are You Still Teaching?" Teacher Helpdesk! Your call is important to us... and we promise to answer as soon as we're done re-evaluating our life choices. Please hold for the next available Emotional Support Goat. (Yes, we have goats. They're surprisingly calming.) or remain on the line for soothing whale noises.

If you know your party's extension, please dial it now. If you're in a crisis involving glitter glue, unsupervised children, or too much coffee, press 1 for "I'm at my breaking point".

For a mood enhancer or to speak with a pharmacist: Press 2 – Our pharmacists will either provide helpful suggestions, referrals or just offer you a glass of wine. Your choice.

For Catholic priests specializing in exorcisms: Press 3

For an Emotional Support Goat: Press 4 – Our goats are standing by. They'll listen, they won't judge, and they might nibble on your frustration (or your lunch). They're good at that.

For advice on how to survive the next PTA meeting: Press 5 – Our team of seasoned educators will provide you with coping mechanisms such as deep breathing, pretending you didn't hear anything, or accidentally spilling coffee on the principal's shoes. Should you need to deploy the TWAT team who will assist you in planning, coordination and tranquilizers for irate mothers not living in reality: Press and hold 5s and the team response time is 7 minutes.

For crisis support for the 100th "Why did I become a teacher?" moment: Press 6 – Our therapist bots will help you navigate these feelings by saying things like, "You've got this!" and "Maybe just take a nap under your desk.". Know that you are an incredible person, molding the future with sheer grit and spit and stick-to-it-iveness.

For questions about grading or lesson plans: Press 7 – If you are still doing this, we salute you. Someone will be with you shortly to help you, but not before they grab another coffee. Or five.

For technical support for your broken classroom tech: Press 8 – If your projector is still on the fritz after 15 Zoom meetings, we can offer some kind words, but no guarantees. Have you tried turning it off and back on again?

Emergency:
If you are experiencing an actual emergency, such as your students holding a full-blown revolt or your classroom suddenly filling with sticky notes, please hang up and dial 9-1-1.

For anything else, please hold. Your Emotional Support Goat will be with you shortly. Or maybe a glass of wine. We'll see how you're doing.

Ice to Inuits - Biltong to Americans

Six extremely contracted years ago (sleep deprivation truly demonstrates the relativity of time over the life-time of a child), my husband and I were searching for a name for our first-born.   I have no idea whether the Greek word for 'whirlwind' was a self-fulfilling prophecy or an ironic mad-lib, but so it came to be: born in Dubai, raised in South Africa and now in North Carolina over her lifetime.

Her dad is one job of a 60-job production plant that has been established by an international snack foods company, South African firm Stormberg Foods.   Stormberg Foods produces meat protein snacks, dubbed “Project Jerky” by economic developers.   Not to nitpick but I have come to learn that Biltong is NOT Jerky, the preparation is markedly different.   Google, which never lies says that Biltong is a dried and cured steak cutlet which is traditionally marinated in vinegar and spices that add extra flavour to the meat.   On the otherhand jerky has an unspiced dry and smoky taste because it is cooked on a rack.    In review; Biltong well-hung and air-dried whilst Jerky is toasted.   

Crystal Gettys, president of the Wayne County Development Alliance, says conversations between economic developers and Stormberg have been ongoing for the past year.  Company representatives visited Goldsboro four times prior to making their decision. And they brought their families on one of those visits to scout “the quality of life” in North Carolina, she says.   

The product, called “biltong,” is similar to beef jerky and is described as an all-natural, gluten-free snack.   It’s distributed under several brand names targeted toward both pets and people, including “Free Range” and “Best Friend,” sold at Woolworth’s in South Africa. The company has an in-house “African Pride” brand, as well as another pet treat label, “Beg & Barkers.”

The company doesn’t currently distribute its products in the United States, but that’s likely to change
“They have been doing market analysis for over a year now, looking into different avenues in which they can market their product,” Gettys says. The plan is to set up shop in Goldsboro and distribute up and down the East Coast, aided by North Carolina’s highway system, which also factored into the decision, says Gettys.

In a prepared statement about the expansion decision, CEO Gary Moorcroft said the state’s central location on the East Coast was driving factor, as was the low cost of establishing facilities.
“Add a stable labor force, with agricultural processing experience too,” he stated. “The support from the state, city, county and other agencies has been very impressive,” he says.

Stormberg was also lured by a performance-based grant of $125,000 from the One North Carolina Fund, which requires a local match.Wayne County had a 5 percent unemployment rate in April, the most recently-available statistics put out by the North Carolina Department of Commerce. Statewide, the average was 4.3 percent.

Source: Biz Journals

Posted in Press ReleasesTagged Article, Featured Articles, News, Press Releases, Stormberg Foods

The Life Manual (batteries not included)

I asked my husband the other day, when I would grow up. At what moment, I would buzz, rattle and inflate, form a cocoon and emerge with all the secrets of life and all the knowledge required to raise children and appreciate the brussel sprout. He smiled at me, and chuckled in a way that lets me know that no matter how ridiculous I am, I am the most loved woman in the world. And with the look of a man who has all the answers, he said simply "Don't worry about it so much, the baby comes with a manual".

Now the physical logistics aside of how I would print a life manual, what if there was a manual? A set of rules and procedures that outlined how-to's on every conceivable situation. A hitchhiker's guide, if you will.  

If we look at the things that come with manuals: electronics, appliances and the wonderful world of Ikea. How useful do we find the manuals that are included? Written by illiterate gnomes who haven't ever heard English and who all have PHDs in health and safety, half of the story is 101 ways this television, bed or coffee table will kill you.  Fit stake A into death trap B until you hear a crack, find item C (not in the box) in order to make this item safe for consumption. Not that it will fulfil the purpose for which it was intended. Ever. 

Maybe all our cars are Transformers. We just don't know how to activate them, because the secret is written in the telephone directory in the glove box, which doesn't open. However, find and push that button at your own peril. As your car transforms into a super quantum mechanical alien who will save the world… You will be crushed. You will have a really cool car. But there will only be bits and pieces of you left to appreciate it.

Six months ago, this was a fair trade off. Your new life as a Thing from the Addams Family riding on your Popularis Prime would've been satisfying every evening when you got into your Transformer-themed bed. Now, as you become a Transformer: Emergency Air Bag Boobs, Floatation Device Ankles and a Blackhole in your mid section (let's face it, THAT is the only way all that stuff fits in there), the cost seems too great and the benefit way too low.

Do we want to know the dangers? My life mate has a heart attack, a nervous twitch and stress spasms every time I get near a road. Busy intersections have caused him to hiccup in seizures of health & safety. The last thing I need is for him to know, truly know how much can honestly go wrong and how quickly (please refer to Page xxxiiilv in Chapter iiixvy-3 of the Life Manual). My civil liberties and freedoms would be severely impaired, I'm sure.   

I know that I am slowly growing to be a parent. I have been censoring my blue verbs when stubbing my toe, which is f-ing f-unny and people look at you like, wtf a-hole? This is the first step in learning parent language, which includes such ground breaking techniques as S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G-I-T-O-U-T, Ear Muffs! and  Ons praat die taal, want hy kannie verstaan nie. I don't even know when I started doing this. So, happily and with confidence, I'm throwing out the manual or being struck by enlightningment. I don't even care if brussel sprouts are good for me. All I know is that I will find all this out, one thing at a time, learning with my precious family.

Lashings of WHIPPED cream

It's the new year, and we all know what that means: The New Year's Resolution. The single-most unbinding promise we make to ourselves. And we can make promises, we can break promises but the one thing we cannot get a handle on is control. There are just too many variables.

Standing at the airport with our family of friends, a close friend (let's call him Pauly D for the always-impeccable, orange physique and ever-present Essex-shades) said "I need to control myself". To which I answered, "How's that working for you?". Maybe what is required is a little less control and a little more going with it. When you are booked to go to a foreign country and the embassy won't grant your visa. Go with it. When your boobs start taking on a life of their own and double in size. Go with it. When you point at a friend and she bursts into tears. Go with it. What's the worst that can happen?

In the first case, you end up in a very foreign country, you never expected to, with so many opportunities. In the second, your little family is blessed with a little alien that has taken up residence somewhere between your ribs and your knees, still not quite sure. And in the final case, the universe drops a doll of perfect contours, sweet heart and fairytale personality into your lap. All because you went with it.

Now one might think, that having gone this far (with it). You could just gone with it some more. But somehow the human condition likes to interfere and strike down these things that we have stumbled upon. We begin to feel undeserving, like we should've or haven't worked for it. We begin to feel like there is no way that this will work out. Unless we intervene, regain control, quantify variables, think through every eventuality and outcome (the more pessimistic, the better). Because this will make us prepared. This will save us from... From what? The amazing things that are happening to us all the time.

To this I say: DON'T. Just DON'T. For every terrifying what-if that drags you into the grips of terror and despair, there is a what-if that can empower you and move you the other way. And when you begin to over think what is happening around you, follow these easy steps:

1. Go to the fridge
2. Open a Castle Lite (or favourite alcoholic beverage)
3. Drain the bottle
4. Beat yourself over the head with the empty bottle for not going with it and possibly missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime
   

Pauly D, do yourself and the world a big favour. Control less. Hell, think less. Go more. More going with it. Because you never, and I mean never, know where it will take you. We took a cab out to Dubai Sport City, had a beer (and a homemade Ice Tea) at the Ernie Els Golf Club. And once our courage was up we walked around. This place is absolutely amazing, we walked past Dave Richardson in the ICC building (I later found out Dave missed our meeting due to match-fixing in India, but I don't let details bother me), we saw the most amazing sporting facilities (you can only imagine), we literally wet our pants. Just when it couldn't get better, we got lost in the staff accommodations. Houses and cars that would take your and Lulu's breath away. Thank heavens a taxi accidentally came to rescue us, otherwise we'd be squatting in one of the beautiful parks.

But I know, that this place is where I want to be. The Big C seems so at home here. I've never seen someone just fit. And if you argue with my Go With It plan for you, I will smack you (and get away with it "because of the hormones") and tell you this. The job The Big C wanted, that he thought he was too late to get, has just been advertised again. And I bet you anything, he's going to get it. Why? Because he just went with it.

Enjoy living in Cape Town!