Mrs. Potter's Room

          For my friends and family who don’t know yet.           Two and a half months ago, I was diagnosed with OCD and clinical depression, but I’m going to be okay.           Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a commonly misunderstood anxiety disorder that affects about 2% of the population. We all experience something called “intrusive thoughts”. These are ideas that enter our consciousness that we don’t invite and usually don’t like. When they occur, most of us just dismiss them and move on. People with OCD have a glitch in their brain that makes processing these thoughts rather difficult. Rather than moving on, OCD-sufferers will internalize the thought and then use compulsions to try to get rid of it. However, the compulsions just make the thought stronger. These intrusive thoughts are ego-dystonic, meaning they are opposed to our natural personality or character. Some of them can be rather mild ...

In My Arms When I am in the front of my classroom, I am holding so many things. I am thinking about the lesson itself. I am making sure, as best as I can, that all my students are paying attention, that they are getting it, that they are awake. I am evaluating myself: is the lesson working, what do I need to change to be more effective right in this moment, what do I need to do tomorrow? Today I am thinking about a student who has some serious health issues and has returned to school. Is she okay? How can I make sure she is comfortable and happy? Will she be here tomorrow? Today I am thinking about a student whose grandfather is in the hospital. He is very sick. My student is troubled and hurting. Today I am thinking about a student who gets discouraged so easily, but during class today she is smiling and excited. I am delighted and wonder what I can do to make sure the smile is there tomorrow. Today I am thinking about a student who is exhausted, who can barely stay a...

In response to Governor Bevin’s Comments on Teachers in his interview on March 14, 2018: I love being a teacher, but becoming a teacher was a sacrifice. I could have done so many other things and made so much more money than I do now. I could have pursued dreams and fulfilled very real potential. In school, I was in the gifted program. I scored in the 99 th percentile on the big standardized tests. I got awards and honors and achievements more than most people in my grade. I was a Governor’s Scholar. I went to college on a full tuition scholarship and graduated there with honors. I am not ignorant or blind. I could have done almost any job I wanted to do. I have the intellectual aptitude, work ethic, people skills, and drive for anything. But I wanted to be a teacher. I chose to be a teacher because I felt called to do it. I felt that I had something important to offer children, that I could do amazing things in the classroom that would be meaningful for thousands ...

Our schools have been attacked recently by bullets, politicians, and hateful rhetoric. We respond by pleading to God for mercy and guidance. And of course this is right. Of course we look to Him for understanding and comfort. One loud outcry has been that we need to put God back in public school. The cry has been, in part, for legalization of teacher-led prayer and classes that teach the Bible. However, these actions miss the point and create more problems. As a firm believer in the sovereign Lord Jesus who made the universe and saves us from our own sin, I must disagree with this campaign to “put God back in public schools.” First, the separation of church and state should not be disregarded. This constitutional idea serves to protect my own children from being proselytized by a state employee. This prevents my sons from being pressured to pray to a god we do not worship. It preserves my right as a parent to teach my children the religion my husband and I know to be right. It ...

  In My Dresser           I came across Mamaw’s nightgown the other day when I was rummaging through my dresser. She’s been dead for three years now. After her funeral, her belongings were moved to my parents’ house where family divided her stuff. Most of it wasn’t worth much. And I didn’t take much. I have some of her cookbooks. I collect cookbooks, and Aunt Robin said I should have them. My son took a coat rack that says, “Believe”. It is outdated and tacky, but it is mounted in my foyer and holds my sons’ coats.             While I am writing this, I am wearing the gray robe I took. Mamaw had several, so I thought it was fine to take this one. I like it because it is soft and I can wrap myself in it. I wear it nearly every evening. It smells like me now. Like nothing.             The pink gown with the little white ...

I hate bulletin boards. The worst part of getting my classroom ready for the new school year is covering them. I used to feel great pressure to be creative and decorative, like my elementary school teacher friends. Now I don’t even cover the brown cork with any paper. I don’t use any colorful border. I don’t use any of those cool letter cut-outs to place encouraging or clever quotes on the board. No word wall. No calendar. Just the information I’m required to post: emergency procedures, the school mission statement, my contact information, the bell schedule. I have four bulletin boards in my room. On the one that covers the length of a whole wall I have student work posted. It’s the best and easiest way to cover the several feet of blank space. The one in the front of the room has announcements clumsily thumb-tacked to it. The two smaller bulletin boards in the back corner, where Reese, Hank, and Heidi sit, I’ve neglected. They are mostly empty, except for scraps of encouragin...