8 Blessed Days.

I went into the school year knowing this was my third year.  Meaning at the end of the this year I would achieve tenure.  The thought of this was a light at the end of a very long tunnel.

Because I'm a planner.  Any my life is definitely NOT going according to my plan.  I was supposed to be teaching high school social studies, coming home to a family, living in a house.

And now.

Now I'm teaching reading intervention.  In middle school.  In an often hostile work environment.

And 8 is my new favorite number.

It's the number of legs on a spider.  The number of maids-a-milking.  The number of Harry Potter movies.  The number of pints in a gallon.  The number of days and nights in Hanukah.

And the number of student contact days that I was short during my first year of teaching in order for it to count.  So I'm 8 days short of achieving tenure at the end of this year.

8 days short.

I was told I had Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday to mope.  And now, I'm trying to find the positives.

8 days.