I talk too much

I often think that I must have been a handful for my Mum to raise as her fourth and last child.  I was the daughter that was into every movie that had a song you could sing along to.  I used to carry around Garfield the Cat anthologies and promised her that Garfield was the one who taught me how to first use swears.

I was an eccentric child.  My older brothers tell me that I used to perform a song and dance routine to this song when people would come to our home.

You can imagine our guests reacting in horror to a seven year old swinging her hips, clapping her hands, snapping along to this (not quite a family) tune. 

Ironically enough, I think my excessive noise making and verbal performances as a child have contributed to my success today.   My preschoolers have never had to tell me that they thought that my rendition of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" at circle time is off-key, while my third graders, who are still learning English are truly grateful for the time I take to talk to each of them every afternoon.  Talking is kind of my thing, and Miss Frizzle was never quiet and I think she was a pretty great teacher.

Once in college, one of my best friends (with kindness in his heart) told me to count to 11 before I said anything.  This blog is an opportunity for me to count to 11 while sharing bits and pieces of the life of a 25 year old teacher in Portland, Maine.  It's an opportunity for me share and reflect on how I think various moments have positively changed me into the (adult?) I am today.

So here goes nothing....1...2....3....4........