it's saturday. i came in to school to get some grading done, but for some reason i'm sitting here crying like an idiot. i don't know if it's p.m.s. or if i'm really this overwhelmed. they never tell you in school how difficult this will be. they teach you how to make unit plans and lesson plans, talk about classroom management, give you a few hours in an actual classroom, then they send you out into the world...and it's nothing like they say it will be.
students don't care. and the ones who do care have so much other shit going on they don't even know what to do with themselves. they don't teach you how to deal with the suicidal girl or the boy who has to work nights to feed his little sister and pay the rent and never has his homework done. they don't tell you that you'll spend hours on those unit plans, and the kids won't even bother to pay attention to you. they don't tell you that you'll find the end of your rope and then some. you don't learn about the long hours until you live them.
but i suppose they also don't tell you about that lightbulb that comes on over a kid's head. how you can actually see his face light up when he realizes he's found the answer. or that one student who comes in after school over and over again for help and finally gets the a. and how good it feels when one of them finally thanks you or tells you that you did a good job. or a parent calling to thank you for what you've done with his child. or when someone says, "oh, you're miss anonymous...so-and-so's been talking about you."
i know why i became a teacher...i just have to remind myself sometimes...it seems like lately the good teacher days have been few and far between.
or maybe i just have p.m.s.