I'm Not The Kind That Needs To Tell You...

This afternoon I bought the following:

"Room on the Broom" by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler
The Eyewitness Book of the "Wild West"
"From Sea to Shining Sea: Oregon"
"Premium Education Series: LANGUAGE ARTS [Grade 2]"
a North American Indian 'Activity Book'
an Animal 'Search-A-Word Puzzle' book

And about $25 worth of stickers. I kid you not. Mostly Halloween related. (I've always had priorities.)

My mom very kindly accompanied me since I'm finding myself pretty clueless about this business of teaching. We were the only customers in the toy store, save a 2.5 year old girl and her father, and of course, the two highly uninterested employees. I spent a lot of time in this particular establishment when I was younger, and though I haven't been in since JK Rowling's book signing freshman year of high school (i.e. 1999!), it looked no different. I might venture to say that the store feels no different either. But I sure do. Rifling through the picture books, I think it finally hit me: I'm not a child anymore. No matter how many times I read "Matilda," "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," or "The Giver," even, my perceptions are changed.

I've started looking for meaning.

Philip Pullman and my entire thesis tell me that this is a positive change.

Today was just an especially potent reminder...



my halloween stickers are a.w.e.s.o.m.e