Come what may and love it! (Finding Joy in the Journey)

This post is acting in a therapeutic way for me today. I feel, and correct me if I am wrong, it is fair to say that being a public school teacher is hard, thankless work-mostly. Being a first year public school teacher is even more difficult, and less gratuitous than teaching in general. It truly is like being Daniel in the lion's den. You go into it with faith that your expertise and training will help you escape the beasts alive. The difference between Daniel and I, however, is that I will not escape with the help of the Big Guy unscathed. I will not come out of this first year without many cuts, bruises, and quite frankly, life altering scars. This is good though. I have learned much, and I know that next year, fingers crossed that there will be a next year, things will be better. I will be better.

But that's not why I need this therapy. You see, my dear anonymous reader, whomever you may be, it is the midterm of my second trimester and I am burned out. Christmas break was bliss. I fled the town in which I teach and relaxed. It was lovely. Since then, however, and it has been three weeks now, I have had the most difficult time getting back into the groove of being an adult. I cannot bring myself to be responsible. I am tired of lesson plans, blank stares, and pointless excuses. I am tired of telling students to grow up, to stop whistling, and to wash their hands when they go to the restroom (that is another story for another time). I am tired of leaving my apartment before the sun has created the breathtakingly stunning dance of pinks and purples on the Wellsville's behind my classroom (it's gorgeous, you're missing out if you don't know what I am talking about), and returning to my abode after the sun has tucked itself behind the same mountains. I am exhausted by the phrases from my students that claim, "Ms. ---- hates me." Trust me kids, if I hated you, even one of you, I would have been out of this business before you walked in the door. And to my prego cousin with the terrible twos, welcome to every-freakin'-day of my life (I read your post last night, and honey, I feel your pain! Except, the children aren't mine)!

So here's the deal, I need a change. I need to heed the counsel offered by one of my favorite apostles of time and find joy in the journey. I need to embrace what has come and love it! I had a conversation today with one of my sage colleagues and he said, "Come on, Spinster, you got to find something to get you through this." So that is what I am going to try to do. At the end of each day, I am going to blog (my very own secret-public journal) about why I am doing this. I am going to tell all you anxious readers out there why I am in this fantastically miserable profession.

On that note, here is my excerpt for today:

Every other day at the beginning of class, my students have to fix a sentence on the board and I walk around the room and mock or praise them for what they have done (for any English teachers out there, its a system called Caught'ya: Grammar with a Giggle by Jane Bell Kiester, and it is amazing!). Well, today's sentence was one of the most complicated ones we have done so far this year. As such, I offered big extra credit opportunities to any student who could get it correct (it involved the pesky who/whom conundrum, and it sure did get their goat). Well, only one student came even close (it was also a run-on sentence that they had to turn into three different sentences). So I gave him half of what was originally offered, because he was the only one to catch the "whom" in the sentence.

Afterward, we discussed as a class what was wrong with the sentence. Since this student got the extra credit, he was able to confidently raise his hand and tell his peers what they all missed. As much as it pains me to write something dripping with processed cheese, he was glowing with excitement. Further to his delight, his peers gave him much praise for noticing something they did not. As I contemplated what to write about today, I thought about that old story about the starfish and I couldn't help but think, "I made a difference for that one."

I am fully aware that there are many students who walk out of my classroom thinking unkind things towards me and my content. Being "with-it," I also know students converse about the different degrees of hate they each feel for me. I even know that there are students who are convinced that I am plotting their demise (and I quote, "You have a look. Like you are looking into my soul and thinking, how am I going to kill her?" Yep, a student actually said that). Regardless of all that, I can go home tonight, in the dark, knowing that I made a difference in one student's day today. And who knows? Maybe one day he will be able to say, "Ms. ---- is my favorite teacher. she made class fun, and she showed me that she cares." One can only hope, right?