"Don't Eat Poop." Written By: Niki Ishikawa

My husband and I were sitting at the kitchen table having dinner with our children. We were talking about how I was freaking myself out about my first day of work tomorrow, beginning my new career as a high school English teacher. My husband a seasoned high school teacher, was reminding me that tomorrow is nothing to be nervous about. In fact, it will be quite boring consisting of mostly faculty meetings. 

“I don’t think I am as nervous about the In-service as I am worried about getting enough sleep, waking up early and making it to work on time.” 

He laughed and said, “If I were you, I’d be worried about that too.” Having been with me for over 14 years, he knows that I struggle to wake up at any time let alone get up early and that I am notorious for being late. 

Even our kids, know I am always late. My youngest son, made me realize last spring how bad I was, when we were getting ready to leave for his tumbling class when he said, “mama can we get there early? I don’t like being the last one there.” My oldest son likes to paraphrase my mom whenever we’re running late, “you were born late, that’s why you’re always late. Right mom?”

So yes, I struggle with timeliness, which is something I’m working on, something I’ve been working on. And no I don’t want to be late tomorrow. I want to make sure that I do get my rest so that if the meetings do happen to be boring, there will be no chance of me falling asleep during them. 

I woke up feeling fine this morning and was fine well into the early afternoon, knowing that I was going to start my new job tomorrow. I was excited and felt relatively ready. It wasn’t until I received a couple forwarded emails from the principal of the school, which included the details of the next two weeks of In-service along with attachments of the employee and student handbooks. Then all of a sudden tomorrow and my new career became a nerve wracking reality. 

As I was reading the In-Service schedule, it felt like my stomach was doing cartwheels, while my lower back instantly grew stiff with stress, then my head began to hurt with anticipation of what was to come. Once my hands started shaking and I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest, I knew I had to calm myself down. I began questioning whether I was ready to take on this challenge and responsibility. Am I truly qualified to teach? Well, I already signed my contract and quit my job of the last 10 years. So at this point, there is no turning back. 

I took some deep breaths and tried to put it in perspective while I focused on helping the boys with their piano practice. Then while I was helping my husband cook dinner a great friend texted me and reminded me to relax and think of how easy the interview turned out to be, even though I got myself all worked up about it. She had nothing but well wishes for me, which was exactly what I needed.

By the time we were sitting down to eat at the dinner table I was beginning to feel much better. Our conversation was obviously focused on what lies ahead tomorrow and the rest of the school year, but I began to feel more at ease. My husband as always was full of great advice, one of the many reasons I married him.

“What should I wear tomorrow? The email said it’s casual, but how casual?” 

“You can wear what you’re wearing now or for that matter what you wear on any given day, when you’re going about your business. It’s not like you wear booty shorts, or low cut shirts. I guarantee whatever you end up wearing, someone else will be dressed even more casual than you.”

I was feeling better the more we talked and the more advice my husband gave. When there was a lull in the conversation, my oldest son piped up, following the lead of his dad giving great advice. With great confidence and seriousness, Captain Awesome stated, “don’t eat poop.”

“Good advice.”

“[Captain Awesome], that is great advice.”

And with that I smiled and finally truly relaxed, realizing life is so simple. I will be fine as long as I stay true to myself, show up well rested and on time. In the eyes of my six year old, the only thing I had to worry about was not eating poop. I can do that.