Something happened today that's making me wonder if I'm cut out to be a teacher. It has nothing to do with my knowledge of my subject matter or my ability to manage a classroom. Those things are easy compared with what I had to deal with today. I think I become too emotionally invested to be a teacher. I can't deal with what some of these kids have to deal with.
One of my girls was raped over the weekend, and I'm the only person besides her foster mother and hospital staff that she told. I don't know how to comfort her. I know I can't comfort her. I don't know how to speak to her because I don't want her to think that my crying for her is because I think less of her, but instead because I can't believe how strong she is for having the courage to not only report what happened, but to also name her attacker and press charges. And that I'm crying for her loss because she'll never have that childhood back. And there will be a part of her that will never get over this. But I can't say this to her. She called, and I was helpless.
And I can't deal with that helplessness. I know if this is something I'm going to do for the rest of my life, I'm going to be helpless.