At what point do you decide to make the one decision that will change your life forever? When do you decide that enough is enough and the most you want to make out of life is waking up, caring for your family, and live for YOUR day? When? What makes that final straw final?
I still get joy from teaching. I still can make them laugh. I can still laugh at them. I can still love them...forgive them...grieve with them...teach them.
For the most part.
There are those days...there are "those" days...and there are days like today. Today was tough. For one, I've spent the majority of the week thinking Monday was Wednesday and Thursday was Friday. Makes for a terribly loooonnnnngggg week. To make matters even better (heavy laced sarcasm), they think that teaching just isn't enough, they must also pile on so much paper work that even the trees growing in Brooklyn must be a shakin with enough fear to skin their bark. It's hard to imagine why test scores are flailing when it is more important for teachers to cross their t's and dot their i's instead of getting down to what matters.
Of course, when you are finally able to step in and teach, you have the Little Johnnys of the world sitting in their desks just daring you to be the adult in the class and challenge their snot nosed sarcastic attitudes with sugar and spice and you better treat me nice or I will cross my arms, pout, and refuse to do anything resembling class work until you have to threaten me with detention in which I will catch a fit, call you a liar, and pretend that my mom is going to beat me if you call her on the phone. Yes, that is a true story!
When is enough?
Today was enough. . . But just for today. I will be back again tomorrow.
After all the tears, after all the jeers, crossing of arms, eyes that kill...Sixth period came along.
Thank whatever Gods may be for even the smallest of miracles.
Andy danced for us today. I swear I thought he was going to break something, but he just threw himself on the floor and started spinning around in his own semblance of a break dance. I'm teaching my sixth period class to call the principal "School Master." She gets a kick out of it. We get a kick out of calling her that. Small miracles, huh?
Gotta love em.
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