Of pride. And prejudice.

I sh*t you not, dear readers.

Just took a peek at my online transcript, and this is what I found, as my average for the first half of this academic year.

My pride? Simply knows no bounds.

And trust me, with a past heavily steeped in all things Austen, I KNOW where pride tends to lead one.

BUT.

This old dog needs to pat herself on the back, with the one good arm she has at her disposal. Because going back to university after being at home with three children for thirteen years, and cracking past the "Aged 40" due date on my personal expiration label...

THIS?

Is a big deal for me.

Now, to set my sights towards the immediate future:

Today was my first day as a grade six teacher. Scary, seeing as my entire career experience thus far (apart from rearing my own eldest child) has been with students between the ages of two and eight. To say that this considerably more "mature" classroom (although... come to think of it, I'm not entirely certain that this is an apropriate word to describe ALL of the students I met today. But hey, it's the only the first day, and I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt) was a bit of a shock to the ol' system is an understatement.

I am secretly panicking that these kids are going to eat me alive.

AND.

I have to teach gym. Every. Single. Day.

Gym is not my forte, to put it mildly. When it comes to sports, I am the spectator.

But, it's an experience, right? And besides, what does not kill me will make me stronger.

Or, as my darling grandmother used to say, in full-on Scottish brogue:

"It's a grrrrrreat life, i'ye dinna WEAKEN!!"

Right you are, as always, Grandma.

I'll try not to.