I love my job. I really do. I feel lucky to wake up before the buttcrack of dawn each morning to head to a place that houses thousands of pre-pubescent, unreasonably aggressive teenagers who think Im ridiculously cool (hah) and want to spend all class periods learning how to analyze literature. In fact, they love it so much that they want to spend the whole class period texting their friends about it! ;) I do genuinely love my job, but Ill admit there are days, even weeks that seem to stretch out like a stint on death row... days where Im watching the clock until the moment I can fake a smile and say, Have a great day! Smell ya later, suckers. This week was a rough one for me. The realities of teaching can be hard, and sometimes the responsibility can be suffocating. Heres a small window into our world: I have 189 students, roughly 360 papers waiting to be graded, 32 desks smooshed into my room, about 15 chronic non-attenders, around 30 students who read significantly under grade level, 15 identified as gifted and the rest ranging between severely skill deficient and advanced, 32 failing students, a few mentally ill, one homeless (that I know of), several students bouncing from home to home, two in foster care, one student afraid shes pregnant, several boys and girls on house arrest/probabtion or involved in the court system, one class period a day to call their parents with concerns and to plan for the next day and to make copies and to grade. I made two phone calls home last night (I had about 30 on my list) and both calls were so disheartening and ineffective. Im not sure what my point is with this post, but as frustrated and overwhelmed and defeated I felt this week, I also continue to feel blessed and unbelievably lucky to know these kids and to be supported by so many great teachers. Im so grateful to my support system and the people that remind me why I wanted to teach in the first place!
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 15:05:46 +0000
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