First Day of School Lamenting

Holy Cow I am so overwhelmed and completely full of sheer and utter despair. Unless you have lived it, you cannot imagine the wretched feeling that comes with the first day of teaching middle school Language Arts. I actually experienced delirium on the drive home when, for about 20 minutes, I seriously believed in my heart it had been a week with them. When I realized it had only been one completely consuming first day with the hoodlums I almost started crying. My body did experience a physical downward chemically depressive shift for the worse. It was all I could do to keep from coming home, putting on my PJ's, and going to bed. The only thing that stopped me was that I knew if I did go to bed there would be no break from school because I'd just get up at the crack of-- for day 2 with the juvies. Listen- I'm sure they are great, and I'm ABSOLUTELY RESOLUTELY positive they are kittens compared to the insane bunch I had that first year, but the immense amount of work I have to do, information I have to store and process in my head, and decisions (split second) that I have to make are without doubt overwhelming me at the moment.

Two comments serve to demonstrate the magnitude of what lay ahead. They are both from Mrs. Jardine (who I am sure will be translated for her decades of middle school service). She said that, "Second only to an air traffic controller, teachers have to make more decisions on a daily basis than people in any other occupation." She also said , "There is a reason that not many 14-year-olds die- God doesn't want them either." I affirm her notions. This job is so hard and oh so draining. I am scared that I don't have it in me for another year. I am scared that I am too tired. I am totally getting that Middle School has the highest staff turnover rate.

I am worried that I won't love them as much as they need to be loved and that somewhere along the line I will not be able to give 110%. They need it so much. With the whole year ahead of me, it's hard to imagine, let alone believe, that I have it to give again.

...and if you are one of my students or a parent of one of my students, know that I work hard hard HARD. Know that I have done this and have succeeded. Know that I cried and cried when my students left last year, that they still come to my room to discuss literature (even the boys with long hair), and that 95% of them passed the national tests. Know that I shudder to think of the 5% that didn't and live in regret of that and consider it a failure I do not care to repeat. Know that I'm so drained because I give them everything and all of me. Know that I can do this, but oh what a hard never-ending, thankless, payless task it is.

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Oh no- I just entertained thoughts of RUNNING AWAY!

(...again)