I was going to write about how yesterday, after getting only a few hour's sleep, I went to teach swim (with Maggie, who is temporarily a full-time coach with me! Yay!) and had two kids added to my already-big class that included not only three toddlers but three full-size kids (not a good mix, and one I will probably put my foot down on doing again).
And how the other coach (who, THANK GOD, is not the normal coach) decided to have her class of really big kids right next to us - read: lots of splashing and big waves mixed with already-unsteady-on-their-feet tots - and because I don't really know her at all, I didn't really feet comfortable asking her to move.
And how one of my tiny tots leaned over to get a toy and was swooshed off his feet by a wave from said big kids, and went head-over-heels under the water.
And how I rescued him immediately, and he seemed fine and not really that traumatized, but ten minutes later started crying and wouldn't stop sobbing on my shoulder.
And how his parents declined to comfort him or pull him out, so I taught - and I use the word taught very loosely here, because very little teaching/learning went on yesterday - holding him on my hip, and because of this, I couldn't really teach my other two students, both of whom were disturbed by the crying and who started asking ten minutes in if they could go get their towels.
And how one of the kids is an angel and I felt AWFUL that she wasn't really having any fun.
And how the other kid is a BRAT and I wish his parents would, well, be better parents. (His older brother is becoming the bane of every coach who's had him.)
And how I'm pretty sure none of the parents (except the parents of my angel-child) were very happy with me, although I'm not sure what I could have/should have done differently.
And how, because I was so wrapped up in trying to keep everyone from drowning and all, that I basically stuck Mags with all the level 1's, including three brand new students who had no clue what was going on and hadn't had any boundaries set at all.
And how, in the second class, I was jumped on by one of my shall-we-say-less-than-exemplary kids, who we're pretty sure has some form of autism (I do not say this lightly or flippantly - she "stims," has really extreme reactions, has trouble making eye contact, etc), jumped on my neck twice, and, after the first time when I explained that she hurt me and she needed to wait her turn, did it again and laughed.
And how I came home and had a good cry and made myself biscuits and gravy and wished I was back in Alabama.
I was going to write about that... but instead, I think I'll go make a cup of coffee, fold my laundry, and make something lovely in the crockpot.
*Thanks to Bean, who realized yesterday that I was truly, genuinely upset by the events of the evening, and called this morning to make sure I was over it. (I'm not - yet - but I will be). :)