This hits me several times a year, usually when I'm tired and my responsibilities are piling up. The urge to do stupid things takes several forms. Sometimes, it takes the "Throw all my crap in a big box and go overseas" form. This one is mighty hard to resist, especially when I get emails from my friends who happen to be overseas and hear tales of their interesting lives. They make my passport itch.
Other times, the urge to do stupid things takes the form of getting a tattoo. I've secretly and not-so-secretly wanted one for years, but I'm too afraid of needles to get one. Since I can barely sit long enough for a phlebotomist to pull several vials of blood for testing, I don't think I could endure thousands of sticks needed to make a permanent design, no matter how much I want one.
Another form of the urge to do stupid things involves giving up my teaching job to pursue a higher degree. What the heck would I do with a higher degree? I don't really want it. It would just be a form of glorified avoidance. I miss being a full-time student sometimes, especially on the days when I manage to erase the parts of my brain that stridently recall just how often big parts of that lifestyle sucked.
There are other forms, all of them some kind of escapism, some of them mild, some of them serious. I drive to school and imagine not taking the right off-ramp but rather flooring it and winding up on the east coast somewhere. Coming home, I see the sign for New Orleans, and I think, "Hmm...." Driving past the shiny, enticingly-curved Chargers on the lot at the local Dodge dealership, I grip the steering wheel and wonder if my budget would stretch to cover the monthly budget if I just whipped in there.
I think, though, that I'm just going to pursue a lesser escape tonight, the refuge of sleep. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. If not, it's Spring Fever, and Katie bar the door, because I'm not sure what will resolve it....
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Tragedy
Yesterday during the chaos between second and third periods, one of my colleagues asked me if I taught a certain student. I said yes, he'd been one of mine last year. The colleague went on to tell me that that student had committed suicide the night before.
Nothing in any education class prepares you for news like this. There is no training anywhere adequate for words like that. I felt like someone had punched me, and I started to cry. I can still see him, even right at this very moment. He was a tall, tall guy. He played basketball for us, and he was quiet, but so sweet. He had a mischievous grin and a clever sense of humor.
He struggled academically, but together, we worked hard and got him through the course and to graduation. I hadn't heard from him since he left our school, but that's the case with about 98 percent of my graduates. Unless I see them out in the community or hear from a younger sibling who happens to pass through my room at some point, I don't usually know much about them once they leave.
I went back into my room, and I tried to get on with class, but I knew my students would know more details, and I had to ask. They told me more about it. He'd broken up with a longtime girlfriend, he'd been living with his sister, he'd lost his beloved grandmother and never gotten over it, and ultimately, he'd felt there was nothing left for him. That sweet, funny, gentle kid felt that life was over for him before he turned 20. I sat at my desk, in front of my students, something you're probably never supposed to do, and cried. I couldn't stop.
I went and got a teacher from across the hall who was on his planning period to keep them for a few minutes and pulled myself back together as best I could, but the rest of the day was very hard for me. I was teaching Ophelia's death in AP, and just talking about suicide was almost more than I could bear. I kept wanting to stop class and just say to all of them, "If you ever reach the point where you think you don't matter to anyone else in this world, know that I will cry for you. Come see me. You may not think anybody else cares, but I do. I will listen to anything you have to say, just don't decide to end your life."
As I was getting my hair cut yesterday evening, I told my beautician, "I love what I do, but some days, I really hate this job. Today, I think I would be happier flipping burgers." At that moment, I meant it. One of the beautiful parts of teaching is getting to know all these wonderful kids, even for the brief time that we get to be a part of their lives. It's one of the things I like better about K-12 than about college. In college, it's very hard to make contact with your students; it's impersonal. In K-12, the structure of teaching is about building relationships. Unfortunately, those relationships also come with pain sometimes when loss occurs.
All day long, I kept staring at the desk where he sat last year. Oddly enough, nobody sits in that desk in any class I have this year. It's an empty desk this year. For me, that emptiness became acutely poignant yesterday. In the silences of my off periods, I could almost see him sitting there again, long basketball player legs sticking out into the aisles again, and I so wished that he'd found somebody somewhere who could have met his need.
Nothing in any education class prepares you for news like this. There is no training anywhere adequate for words like that. I felt like someone had punched me, and I started to cry. I can still see him, even right at this very moment. He was a tall, tall guy. He played basketball for us, and he was quiet, but so sweet. He had a mischievous grin and a clever sense of humor.
He struggled academically, but together, we worked hard and got him through the course and to graduation. I hadn't heard from him since he left our school, but that's the case with about 98 percent of my graduates. Unless I see them out in the community or hear from a younger sibling who happens to pass through my room at some point, I don't usually know much about them once they leave.
I went back into my room, and I tried to get on with class, but I knew my students would know more details, and I had to ask. They told me more about it. He'd broken up with a longtime girlfriend, he'd been living with his sister, he'd lost his beloved grandmother and never gotten over it, and ultimately, he'd felt there was nothing left for him. That sweet, funny, gentle kid felt that life was over for him before he turned 20. I sat at my desk, in front of my students, something you're probably never supposed to do, and cried. I couldn't stop.
I went and got a teacher from across the hall who was on his planning period to keep them for a few minutes and pulled myself back together as best I could, but the rest of the day was very hard for me. I was teaching Ophelia's death in AP, and just talking about suicide was almost more than I could bear. I kept wanting to stop class and just say to all of them, "If you ever reach the point where you think you don't matter to anyone else in this world, know that I will cry for you. Come see me. You may not think anybody else cares, but I do. I will listen to anything you have to say, just don't decide to end your life."
As I was getting my hair cut yesterday evening, I told my beautician, "I love what I do, but some days, I really hate this job. Today, I think I would be happier flipping burgers." At that moment, I meant it. One of the beautiful parts of teaching is getting to know all these wonderful kids, even for the brief time that we get to be a part of their lives. It's one of the things I like better about K-12 than about college. In college, it's very hard to make contact with your students; it's impersonal. In K-12, the structure of teaching is about building relationships. Unfortunately, those relationships also come with pain sometimes when loss occurs.
All day long, I kept staring at the desk where he sat last year. Oddly enough, nobody sits in that desk in any class I have this year. It's an empty desk this year. For me, that emptiness became acutely poignant yesterday. In the silences of my off periods, I could almost see him sitting there again, long basketball player legs sticking out into the aisles again, and I so wished that he'd found somebody somewhere who could have met his need.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Happy-ness
I feel like I'm tempting fate to write about this. I feel like I'm just asking the hammer of the gods to come down and smack me. However, if I whine...er...write about all the crap, then I ought to crow about the good, too.
Today, I continued to feel wonderful. Maybe it's a belated birthday gift. No existential angst. No secret yearnings. In fact, the situation I'd written about previously is totally, suddenly, and inexplicably gone. God has totally healed my heart. It's amazing, it's wonderful, and I can hardly understand it. I never thought I'd be so happy to say that I wasn't interested in somebody anymore, but I really, really am. I can enjoy that friendship now as just that. I want to dance, sing, and shout with relief. God is good.
I haven't been this content and peaceful in my own skin since right before I left Indiana. It's even okay that I'm still alone. Can you believe this is me writing this? Maybe thirty-two is the age when the brain finally decides to quit grieving over impossibilities and get on with the living. Maybe there's a train oncoming waiting to smack into me tomorrow. I don't know, but I've sure enjoyed the past couple of days.
I'm writing poetry again, too. I've produced two poems in the last week, and that's more than I have written in the six months previous. Granted, one of them is NOT good, and probably belongs in the bottom of the waste bin rather than in my works-in-progress notebook, but just to feel the muse stirring again is, not to be melodramatic or anything, thrilling.
I feel like a lamp that was clogged with soot. Maybe that's what the past couple of years were for me, sooty years. Something lately burned that soot clear, and now I feel like I'm me again, like I am burning with a bright clear flame again. My Chinese zodiac sign is that of the Fire Dragon. Maybe the dragon is just finally starting to wake up. It's about time, don't you think? I hope I can hold on this.
Today, I continued to feel wonderful. Maybe it's a belated birthday gift. No existential angst. No secret yearnings. In fact, the situation I'd written about previously is totally, suddenly, and inexplicably gone. God has totally healed my heart. It's amazing, it's wonderful, and I can hardly understand it. I never thought I'd be so happy to say that I wasn't interested in somebody anymore, but I really, really am. I can enjoy that friendship now as just that. I want to dance, sing, and shout with relief. God is good.
I haven't been this content and peaceful in my own skin since right before I left Indiana. It's even okay that I'm still alone. Can you believe this is me writing this? Maybe thirty-two is the age when the brain finally decides to quit grieving over impossibilities and get on with the living. Maybe there's a train oncoming waiting to smack into me tomorrow. I don't know, but I've sure enjoyed the past couple of days.
I'm writing poetry again, too. I've produced two poems in the last week, and that's more than I have written in the six months previous. Granted, one of them is NOT good, and probably belongs in the bottom of the waste bin rather than in my works-in-progress notebook, but just to feel the muse stirring again is, not to be melodramatic or anything, thrilling.
I feel like a lamp that was clogged with soot. Maybe that's what the past couple of years were for me, sooty years. Something lately burned that soot clear, and now I feel like I'm me again, like I am burning with a bright clear flame again. My Chinese zodiac sign is that of the Fire Dragon. Maybe the dragon is just finally starting to wake up. It's about time, don't you think? I hope I can hold on this.
Monday, February 18, 2008
A Sudden Surge of Clarity
I don't know if it's the phase of the moon or what, but I've had so much energy the past two days. I built a stained glass window Saturday, I've done a lot of housework, and today, I graded a bunch of papers, made dinner and rice pudding for dessert, and I just generally feel bouncy. The angst that I've been so wrapped up in has evaporated like mist. At least for today, I'm content with my life, small and fragile thing that it is. It's a good feeling.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Old Movies
What is it that makes old movies so good? I just finished watching The African Queen, and I don't see how you could ask for a better film. So many of my favorite movies are older than me. In fact, most of my favorite films are almost twice as old as me. There's Some Like It Hot, All About Eve, Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Sunset Boulevard, and The Women. There's It Happened One Night and the peerless 1929 version of The Phantom of the Opera. They all shine like pearls on black velvet, lustrous and sheened with traces of color even though most of these are actually black and white films. The list could go on and on...Gone with the Wind, Double Indemnity, Gaslight, and The Philadelphia Story...each film something to savor slowly and with great relish. My students often ask me if I've seen the latest box office smash, and I almost always have to tell them no. Who has time for the ephemeral when all these eternal greats are to be had?
Bothered and Bewildered
I've met somebody at long last who interests me. He and I share so much. Every time I talk to him, I find another thing to marvel over. He's smart and enjoys knowing and learning. He actually reads, and more than that, he likes poetry. To be perfectly honest, most men I know who can talk to me about books or poetry are either my married and ancient literature professors or "playing for the other team." He's been places. He's seen other things. He's brave, he's honest, he's open about things, and he's passionate about what he cares for. He's the kind of man that I thought didn't exist anymore.
Of course, he is also my good friend, and he is no more attracted to me than one of those professors who "play for the other team" would be. I'm glad he's my friend. I'm glad to know that there is a man like him somewhere in the world. While I think it's doubtful, maybe if there's one, somewhere there's another. While I wish he'd look at me and see me as more than just a friend, I'm used to men not seeing more than that. I guess I should just look at as a good thing that finally my heart has been moved again.
Of course, he is also my good friend, and he is no more attracted to me than one of those professors who "play for the other team" would be. I'm glad he's my friend. I'm glad to know that there is a man like him somewhere in the world. While I think it's doubtful, maybe if there's one, somewhere there's another. While I wish he'd look at me and see me as more than just a friend, I'm used to men not seeing more than that. I guess I should just look at as a good thing that finally my heart has been moved again.
My Birthday
The day I had been dreading so deeply turned out to be one of the best birthdays I've had. It's funny how things turn out that way sometimes.
My second period class rigged a scam involving my being called to the office for an "emergency", decorations, flowers, and cake. They gave me a card, and one of my students who has just returned from a trip to India gave me a small model of the Taj Mahal, a place I have always wanted to see. I almost cried.
Fourth period was disgruntled because second period stole their idea of an office emergency, but they, too came armed with cake and gifts. They gave me a gift certificate to a local bookstore and a very sweet card.
At lunch, my dear sweet friend brought me another cake and the group I eat lunch with gave me a card they'd made and signed, and my sugar trifecta was complete.
That night I went to dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant with my Mom and Dad, something we almost never do anymore, and afterwards, I went to a concert. Bela Fleck and Chick Corea did a show at our local renovated theater, and they were amazing. I cut my night class to go, and it was the best decision I've made in a long time.
All in all, it was a splendid day. I really needed it, too. It helped me get through the day that followed with a smile on my face, and that's no mean feat.
My second period class rigged a scam involving my being called to the office for an "emergency", decorations, flowers, and cake. They gave me a card, and one of my students who has just returned from a trip to India gave me a small model of the Taj Mahal, a place I have always wanted to see. I almost cried.
Fourth period was disgruntled because second period stole their idea of an office emergency, but they, too came armed with cake and gifts. They gave me a gift certificate to a local bookstore and a very sweet card.
At lunch, my dear sweet friend brought me another cake and the group I eat lunch with gave me a card they'd made and signed, and my sugar trifecta was complete.
That night I went to dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant with my Mom and Dad, something we almost never do anymore, and afterwards, I went to a concert. Bela Fleck and Chick Corea did a show at our local renovated theater, and they were amazing. I cut my night class to go, and it was the best decision I've made in a long time.
All in all, it was a splendid day. I really needed it, too. It helped me get through the day that followed with a smile on my face, and that's no mean feat.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Too Much
In two days, I will be thirty-two. The countdown is almost done. Today was horrid for reasons I won't go into here. What I thought I was over, or at least had locked up in a dark corner of my mind and thrown away the key, reemerged today, and now I feel awful again. I wish I could just fast-forward this week right through to Friday. I don't know how I'm going to get through the birthday and Valentine's, especially since one of my friends now has a brand-spanking new love that he's all aglow with. I'm thrilled for him because God knows he deserves it. He's a good man, one of the few I know. However, for me, it's salt in raw wounds. Maybe some of his happiness will rub off on me. I hate to forever be the dark cloud, but this birthday is just kicking my butt this year. At least it will be over soon. Maybe I can find some peace with it once it's done and get back to something besides whining and griping. I hate doing it, but I can't seem to stop, either. It's all too much. Maybe I just need to go out and do something really stupid.
Friday, February 08, 2008
End of a Long Week
I'm dragging. Fridays, which I'm sure used to be a day of going and doing something fun at night, have turned into an evening of coming home and crashing on my couch. Two nights a week of night classes are killing me. I like the classes, but I just can't seem to recover from them like I used to.
I have no big plans for this weekend. I have the obligatory housework and errands to take care of, but other than that, I plan to keep things low-key.
I wish I had some more time this weekend to go somewhere with my friends or have a big get-together in honor of the impending Day of Doom coming up Wednesday. I had planned to do that, but somehow, I just never got myself together to do it. Since some of the people I want to come are not local, it takes a bit of finessing.
Well, I think I'm going to go curl up with a book for awhile. I have some assigned reading I should be doing for my charming professor, but I'm going to rebel and skip it for a bit.
I have no big plans for this weekend. I have the obligatory housework and errands to take care of, but other than that, I plan to keep things low-key.
I wish I had some more time this weekend to go somewhere with my friends or have a big get-together in honor of the impending Day of Doom coming up Wednesday. I had planned to do that, but somehow, I just never got myself together to do it. Since some of the people I want to come are not local, it takes a bit of finessing.
Well, I think I'm going to go curl up with a book for awhile. I have some assigned reading I should be doing for my charming professor, but I'm going to rebel and skip it for a bit.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Literary Life Philosophy
Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow.
Lawrence Clark Powell
Lawrence Clark Powell
Stand (Mixer) ing Up for Myself
I finally did it. The last piece of the bridal registry that I had so long held out for, the last big box that I had one day hoped to rip white and silver paper off at a church shower is now sitting in my kitchen waiting to be opened up, unpacked, and plugged in. I have an Empire Red KitchenAid Artisan mixer waiting to make sour cream pound cakes, whipped potatoes, and whatever other damn thing my little heart desires. Complicated cakes and breads? That's what it's made for. Jell-O instant pudding at midnight? The glossy beast will serve. Water swirling in pretty whirlpools just to see the gleaming beaters spiral? Too right, missy. I feel a little bit of the same sort of power madness that a Charger instills in me, and this thing doesn't even have a Hemi.
I've waited years for this. I've watched my friends one by one, get one, either with husband or after husband, and I've drooled over them (the mixers, not the husbands) in the stores but never been willing or able to fork over the hunk of money required to bring one home (again, the mixer, not the husband). As the big 3-2 approaches, though, I am laying aside the last of the bridal dreams. If I don't stand (mixer) up for myself now, I may spend the rest of my life with my nose pressed up against the store window when I could be at home making pound cakes. Today, I officially chose pound cakes.
Tomorrow, I will hie myself off to a grocery store to buy the strictly non-diet-friendly ingredients I need for the sour cream pound cake I love but haven't made in over a year. I will take out the beautiful Bundt pans my parents have bought me for birthdays over the years, including the one shaped like a rose, the mini-bundts, and the one with the spiky, star-like top, and I am going to bake like a crazy woman. It's going to be a lot of fun. I'll take the results, good, bad, or indifferent to school Wednesday so my house doesn't fill up with edible temptation. Man, this is going to be fun.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Topamax -- For All You Searchers
I've noticed there have been a lot of hits on my blogs about Topamax, and I've pretty much stopped writing about my experiences with it. I sort of left that story unfinished, and those of you who have started taking it and are looking for some sort of "ending" may be wondering if it ever got any better for me. The simple answer is yes.
I've been on Topamax since October, and although the period of adjustment getting up to the full dosage was just miserable, now that I'm there, most of the worst of the side effects for me are gone. I still have moments of tingling in my fingers and toes, but those are fairly rare for me. I have lingering moments of processing lag, but the huge lags I reported earlier, especially those when trying to play the piano and organ, have either smoothed themselves out or my brain has learned to compensate.
I do still lose words and spellings of words. Names are the worst. That tip-of-the-tongue syndrome happens to me all the time. Sometimes I can get to the information I need in a few minutes, sometimes not. I just tell my students I'm having a Topamax moment, and we go on. It is embarrassing at times, especially when it's a person's name that's lost.
Topamax ultimately helped me to lose about 40 pounds, along with diet changes. As that's something I needed to do, I was grateful to it. The weight is still coming off, but not as rapidly as before.
I have not had a full-on migraine since the middle of December. I was having them every time I got stressed out about something, meaning that when school was in session, I was needing my Maxalt about once a week. To me, that's pretty impressive. It's too soon to tell if this record will hold, but I've already passed through some pretty stressful stuff (see earlier blogs from this week if you don't believe me), and no hammer of the gods, so I think the Topamax has to be doing something right.
Ultimately, the only thing I can tell you about the drug is this: so far, it's been good to me. My side effects were nasty at first, but I didn't have the worst of the range, either. I have a good friend who had to get off of it because her side effects included some of the intolerable others. If you are struggling with the confusion and the slow processing, hang in there. It might get better for you like it did for me.
I've been on Topamax since October, and although the period of adjustment getting up to the full dosage was just miserable, now that I'm there, most of the worst of the side effects for me are gone. I still have moments of tingling in my fingers and toes, but those are fairly rare for me. I have lingering moments of processing lag, but the huge lags I reported earlier, especially those when trying to play the piano and organ, have either smoothed themselves out or my brain has learned to compensate.
I do still lose words and spellings of words. Names are the worst. That tip-of-the-tongue syndrome happens to me all the time. Sometimes I can get to the information I need in a few minutes, sometimes not. I just tell my students I'm having a Topamax moment, and we go on. It is embarrassing at times, especially when it's a person's name that's lost.
Topamax ultimately helped me to lose about 40 pounds, along with diet changes. As that's something I needed to do, I was grateful to it. The weight is still coming off, but not as rapidly as before.
I have not had a full-on migraine since the middle of December. I was having them every time I got stressed out about something, meaning that when school was in session, I was needing my Maxalt about once a week. To me, that's pretty impressive. It's too soon to tell if this record will hold, but I've already passed through some pretty stressful stuff (see earlier blogs from this week if you don't believe me), and no hammer of the gods, so I think the Topamax has to be doing something right.
Ultimately, the only thing I can tell you about the drug is this: so far, it's been good to me. My side effects were nasty at first, but I didn't have the worst of the range, either. I have a good friend who had to get off of it because her side effects included some of the intolerable others. If you are struggling with the confusion and the slow processing, hang in there. It might get better for you like it did for me.
Dinner with Friends
Sometimes, it turns out the only thing I really needed after all was dinner with my friends. I went to a Mardi Gras party last night at my friends' house, and I had the best time I've had in a long while. We used to have a supper club where we went from house to house once a month, but with the stresses of jobs, night classes, and increasing numbers of children in our group, it sort of fell by the wayside. I knew I missed those monthly dinners, but until last night, I really didn't know just how much I was missing them.
I felt connected for the first time in a long time again. I found out things that were going on with people that I've known, literally, all my life, but I haven't seen continuously for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time in months. We ate good food, kept saying that we needed to go home as the hour got later and later, and the number one thing that everyone said over and over again was, we have to do this again. Why haven't we been doing this?
If nobody else can host the next one, I will do it. I will decrapify my house and figure out something to prepare, but I'll play hostess. It was too nice to have that communion with people who know me and with whom I actually have things in common. There were no social status measuring, no games, no ulterior motives, and no politics in play. I didn't have to play who do you know, what do you drink, or how much do you make. In my current world, that is too precious not to have it happen again.
I felt connected for the first time in a long time again. I found out things that were going on with people that I've known, literally, all my life, but I haven't seen continuously for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time in months. We ate good food, kept saying that we needed to go home as the hour got later and later, and the number one thing that everyone said over and over again was, we have to do this again. Why haven't we been doing this?
If nobody else can host the next one, I will do it. I will decrapify my house and figure out something to prepare, but I'll play hostess. It was too nice to have that communion with people who know me and with whom I actually have things in common. There were no social status measuring, no games, no ulterior motives, and no politics in play. I didn't have to play who do you know, what do you drink, or how much do you make. In my current world, that is too precious not to have it happen again.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Ups and Downs
After four continuous days of having to listen to my friend go on and on about how excited he is about his upcoming "not a date" with the woman in the skimpy costume, I am finally growing numb, or at least resigned to it. Wednesday, I went off on him for his general insensitivity, but it skipped right over his head. I don't guess I was explicit enough. Thursday, I wasn't able to meet that group, and today, I had just decided that if it came up, I wasn't going to rise to the bait. I was very proud of myself. Now if I can just make it through his joyous retellings of whatever happens once he's actually been to the party with this person and this costume (however many days it takes him to relate that) without killing him for being a thickheaded and insensitive male, then life can go on.
It's been a tough week, even without that whole thing going on. Wednesday was the worst, starting off with an earring dropped down a sink drain (one of my jade ones carefully brought back from Thailand; I hope Dad can get it out), forgetting to put my trash out at the bottom of the driveway and it blowing off the roof of my PT Cruiser into the middle of the interstate and my having to retrieve it at 6:15 a.m., and so on. It ended with my Shakespeare professor belittling my profession as "unrespectable" since we high school teachers have to do things like keep bus duty, etc., and all have classrooms that are out of control (? Has he been in my room lately?). It was a long, long day.
The week ended on a high note, though. I got wonderful news today, sort of reward for not picking up a chair at some point and thrashing my friend with it, maybe. One of my students selected me as Star Teacher. I was totally blown away. I never expected such an honor to come to me. When the counselor came to tell me about it, I was completely dumbfounded for a minute. It means so much to me to have been chosen, especially since it's coming just now in the middle of all this horrible crap of the oncoming birthday.
After school, I went to my favorite junktique shop, and tomorrow I have a gathering of friends to go to, so I am hoping that now that January is finally dead and gone that things will begin to lighten up. It's been a rough start to the year, but maybe that's done now.
It's been a tough week, even without that whole thing going on. Wednesday was the worst, starting off with an earring dropped down a sink drain (one of my jade ones carefully brought back from Thailand; I hope Dad can get it out), forgetting to put my trash out at the bottom of the driveway and it blowing off the roof of my PT Cruiser into the middle of the interstate and my having to retrieve it at 6:15 a.m., and so on. It ended with my Shakespeare professor belittling my profession as "unrespectable" since we high school teachers have to do things like keep bus duty, etc., and all have classrooms that are out of control (? Has he been in my room lately?). It was a long, long day.
The week ended on a high note, though. I got wonderful news today, sort of reward for not picking up a chair at some point and thrashing my friend with it, maybe. One of my students selected me as Star Teacher. I was totally blown away. I never expected such an honor to come to me. When the counselor came to tell me about it, I was completely dumbfounded for a minute. It means so much to me to have been chosen, especially since it's coming just now in the middle of all this horrible crap of the oncoming birthday.
After school, I went to my favorite junktique shop, and tomorrow I have a gathering of friends to go to, so I am hoping that now that January is finally dead and gone that things will begin to lighten up. It's been a rough start to the year, but maybe that's done now.
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