A couple of pukers, several pants-wetters, and numerous scraped knees later, I am loving my job. Sometimes I wonder "Did I really receive a degree from an institution of higher education to be a glorified swing pusher?" But I love it. I can't help but adore those kids, which comes in handy when I don't get to sit down for hours, I never get a lunch break, and I am constantly having to do the "1, 2, 3, Freeze!" countdown. But for some reason, those things seem to melt away when my kids greet me with hugs every morning or when they laugh at the stories I read or the silly songs we sing. Teachers here are treated wonderfully also, which will be so hard to come back to the states where we are so underappreciated and constantly seen as those to blame for the state of the kids today. I feel like I am actually good at my job too, which seems strange because all I've ever heard from teachers is how hard their first year was. I get to be fun and creative, yet I am organized and can maintain control of my students, and I really feel so proud when I see them learning and using the things they have learned. So, basically I love what I do. Enough said.