Zero Period

I didn't realize that when my daughter was offered the best Algebra II teacher with the price tag of attending zero period that I too would have to share in her early morning experience. Quite a drag indeed. I do not heart zero period.

My 6:00 a.m. alarm is nontraditional. I wake to the sound of a plastic cereal bowl hitting the granite counter top and a spoon being plopped into sugared cereal and cold milk. My daughters vacillates between Lucky Charms, Crunch Berries, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Trix. Yes, I am that mom. I grew up on sugar cereal and never grew a questionable boil or lost clumps of hair. Unfortunately she doesn't understand quiet, and six o'clock, and our bedroom door is open so the dog can sleep at the foot of our bed, and I had four children and wake when an spider drops a web.

We leave the house when the sun is still yawning from slumber and few cars occupy the road. The rest of the house is still drooling on pillows as I grab a fresh cup of coffee and my daughter her tea. I try to make conversation, but we are both too tired to engage. We only mutter "gross" when we drive past road kill or "ugh" when we see people running up the hill near our house. I run, just not when it is cold and dark. I have limits.

Zero period means that I begin yawing at 3:00 p.m. and have to force myself to mentally gear up from working all day to concentrate on spelling test reviews, emptying backpacks, shuffling children to practices and church activities, and cooking dinner. I really wish that cheap fast food had the nutritional rating of a pot of steamed veggies and that 3rd grade homework only took ten minutes.

Next year I am opting out of zero period. I don't care if Justin Bieber is teaching 12th grade math. She is going to have to be the only senior who doesn't have Mr. Bieber for a teacher, because I need one more hour of sleep every morning.