10-7-2012

When Monica and I were first married, we didn’t spend a lot of time together. You may think it was because of too much awesomeness too soon for Monica.  But it was because of our work schedules.  Monica was a 911 dispatcher at the time, working nights.  I was employed by FedEx,  working the normal 6am-7pm shift.  So we didn’t see each other much. I left for work before she got home, and she was getting ready for work when I got home.  She also had to work most weekends, so that didn’t work out for  us either.  

Then we decided that I would finish college and become a teacher.  Monica then worked more overtime so we could afford me going to school full time. I still worked at nights, driving truck for FedEx, but only for 5 hrs.  Monica started working 60 hours a week, so again, we didn’t see much of each other.

Fast forward to today.  Not only do we have the same schedule and work in the same building; we also teach in the same classroom. On top of that, I am her supervisor.  Yes, I am legally allowed, if not obligated, to tell my wife what she needs to do. This causes confusion on both our parts, because apparently at home, she is legally allowed and obligated to tell me what to do. And I’ve been informed, by Monica, that I must comply. When I ask, “By what authority?”, she just gives me that look. Gentlemen, you know that look, and ladies, you have perfected that look. That look has caused the delay of many football games and interrupted several poker games. That look has also kept the worlds’s population at a lower level than it already is. We are frightened by that look and you women know it.

I have yet to get that look in the classroom from my lovely wife.  She may roll her eyes when I tell the kids a story about my childhood that she thinks I am embellishing, but that is different from the look. She also thinks I use the word ‘poop’ too much in the classroom, but she doesn't try to stop me. When I ask her to do a task in the classroom, she politely says, “Yes Mr. Miller”. 

The best part of having her in the classroom is that she is able to help me with my disability: spelling.  I feel so alone when I am at the whiteboard (chalkboard for you old-timers) with the pen in hand, fumbling in my brain for the right letter order.  Unfortunately, the whiteboard doesn’t have those red lines appear under the word when I have misspelled one.  Usually, I’ll take a step back to get a better visual perspective of the word I was trying to spell.  Then will come a chorus of “HaHaHaHa.  You spelled it wrong!”  This by third graders. I don’t even get the courtesy cough, to let me know I should run back up to the board and erase it quickly.  Nope, just jeers and laughs.  With Monica there, I can confidently stand at the board while writing.  If I think I may have a problem, I just pause, wait for her to cough, then erase the word and use my thesaurus in my head to think of an easier word.  We have ridiculous and contradicting spelling rules.

I am thankful I have Monica in my classroom daily.  She is tough with the kids and is able to get the most out of them.  We both have the same philosophy on what should happen in the classroom, so it makes it easy to lesson plan with her.  And I always know when she’s mad at me because she won’t give me the courtesy cough and lets the kids yell at me.  I hate you resurant. (cough)