Teachers Get Embarrassed, Too

I should be used to embarrassment by now. I'm a teacher, I'm a blonde, and I have weak ankles and when I drink too much caffeine, my hands shake and I drop things. Once I was proudly showing a class my new phone, only to have it slip out of my hands and nearly shatter on the floor. Only a wildly Baryshnikov-esque leap on my part saved it from becoming obsolete before its time. In another class, I taught an entire course with still-new tags hanging on my spanking new cardigan. A female student calmly walked up to me after my hour lecture and carefully peeled the tag off.


Embarrassment-- it comes with the territory. At least with mine.

And I'm not sure what to say about that, except it happens often, even on mornings when I've showered, shaved, put on adequate deodorant, fixed my hair AND eaten breakfast. It happens on mornings when I've forgotten everything. Despite my best care or carelessness, embarrassment happens, and, well, I figure the biggest favor I can pay myself is embrace it.

This morning, I was mortified to discover that I had misspelled nearly half of the students' names on a tutoring sign-up. The overseeing teacher raised an eye brow at me. "Were you writing this while drinking, Laura Beth?" I make a point to never drink and write. Well, okay, this time it had been coffee.

I took my seat with a flaming hot face, my neck beginning to crick.

But I looked around. Everyone else had moved on.

This must be the secret of great teachers, of great people--they move on more quickly than the rest of us. A quick hug, a quick acknowledgment to the awkwardness, and, well, moving on.

So I am, but not before I blogged about it, mulled it over, and interpreted it from every single possible aspect...sigh, okay, I'll stop now. Moving on.

But wait, better tear these tags off first.