edensgarden's Diaryland Diary



I only think of you in Wednesday when the toast is done and the grass is green, and the sun is rising in the technicolor sky, it�s just the kind of morning I wish you could have seen....

The sun this morning was amazing. All I could see was bright beams of yellow, streaming out from behind lavender clouds and the purple mountains. No joke, the Superstition was purple today. I could even see all of the different layers of the clouds....beautiful.


Is it just me? Is it weird that�s it�s only September and I already have 3 pregnant students? I�ve been told that this comes later in the year. And the stranger thing (is stranger a word in this context??), they all seemed to be the type of girls that have common sense and would have used protection.

They�ve all asked me for advice. �What should I do?� Eden thinks to herself: Don�t tell me for heaven�s sake. Go tell your mother. Use protection, it�s not like it�s unavailable. Go tell your mother. Go tell your mother. Quit sleeping around. There are consequences. These are called babies. You have to take care of babies. Babies cost money, lots of money! Yes, your senior year is ruined. But you ruined it for yourself. Go tell your mother.


The breakdown I was expecting to come this week did. I was sitting in my classroom last night and I opened an email from my mom. She told me some things that I didn�t really want to hear, but that I know are true. She wasn�t harsh; these words were spoken with love. It�s just hard, when the insecurities we see in ourselves are seen by others. It�s the most exposed of feelings.

I just sat grading papers through my tears; cursing the Barry Manilow CD playing. Don�t ever listen to Barry in crisis, Eden thinks to herself. Ever.

It�s just the way I release my stress �-- I cry.

Today was better, much better. Except for the fact that my seniors expect me to give them extra credit, candy and wipe their noses. Not on your life. Not in the real world.

Please be responsible children, practice safe sex and do your homework, it�s all a first year teacher can ask.

Some people miss their lovers on Monday, when they�re particularly blue, you don�t remind me of anything that lonely, Wednesday is the only day I ever think of you....

9:54 p.m. - September 18, 2002


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