A Brand New Day
One night last week I fell asleep at 5:30 in the evening and slept straight through until the next morning. My dreams were all nightmares: deep-seated fears finally brought to the sub-conscious. In my dreams, it was the first day of school. My classes had 50 kids in them. None of them had materials. I had no books. I'd made no lesson plans. I couldn't get the kids organized and that was the day my administrator walked in to administer my annual evaluation. All of the fears and anxieties I had about starting a new school year manifested themselves in a series of vignettes in which I was basically fed to the wolves. My career was in question and I was left to wonder if I really had what it took to try and change kids' lives one more time.
Dreams are funny things. Most of the time mine are vague and non-descript. People rarely have faces, although I know who they are. But in my "pre-school" dreams, everything is detailed. I can feel textures, see facial expressions, distinguish colors. People appear three-dimensional. Their voices are clear and diverse.
These dreams are the best for me. It's like my mind has finally purged itself of worry. By dealing with it in my dreams, I am no longer left to deal with it in real life. These dreams are exhausting, but I wake feeling rejuvinated and my mind is clear.
Today was the first day of school. All of the things I'd worried about didn't happen.
In fact, as usual, my kids were wonderful.
I don't know what makes me anxious about what I do. Maybe I know oh so well how critically important my role is in these kids' development.
I don't want to let them down.
I don't want to give them a chance to give up on themselves.
And so I worry.
I worry myself sick about doing enough and being the person they need me to be.
My payback?
Seeing them graduate, one at a time, year after year, knowing I had a small part to play in their success.
But the education system is getting more stringent. A great deal of the creative energy and fun I felt for my job is rapidly being taken away by micro-management and government bureaucracy.
To stay optimistic in the light of this reality can be a challenge.
But today was a red-letter day. Today, I stood before more than 150 kids and explained to them my expectations and offered them assurances that each one of them could reach them.
They listened and now I believe we have an understanding with each other.
I love my job.
I love my kids.
I love how my life makes sense when I'm at school learning and growing. And I'm so glad that all of my concerns were unfounded. I always have to worry if "this" will be the year that will break me, and I'm happy to say I think it's missed me one more time.
Dreams are funny things. Most of the time mine are vague and non-descript. People rarely have faces, although I know who they are. But in my "pre-school" dreams, everything is detailed. I can feel textures, see facial expressions, distinguish colors. People appear three-dimensional. Their voices are clear and diverse.
These dreams are the best for me. It's like my mind has finally purged itself of worry. By dealing with it in my dreams, I am no longer left to deal with it in real life. These dreams are exhausting, but I wake feeling rejuvinated and my mind is clear.
Today was the first day of school. All of the things I'd worried about didn't happen.
In fact, as usual, my kids were wonderful.
I don't know what makes me anxious about what I do. Maybe I know oh so well how critically important my role is in these kids' development.
I don't want to let them down.
I don't want to give them a chance to give up on themselves.
And so I worry.
I worry myself sick about doing enough and being the person they need me to be.
My payback?
Seeing them graduate, one at a time, year after year, knowing I had a small part to play in their success.
But the education system is getting more stringent. A great deal of the creative energy and fun I felt for my job is rapidly being taken away by micro-management and government bureaucracy.
To stay optimistic in the light of this reality can be a challenge.
But today was a red-letter day. Today, I stood before more than 150 kids and explained to them my expectations and offered them assurances that each one of them could reach them.
They listened and now I believe we have an understanding with each other.
I love my job.
I love my kids.
I love how my life makes sense when I'm at school learning and growing. And I'm so glad that all of my concerns were unfounded. I always have to worry if "this" will be the year that will break me, and I'm happy to say I think it's missed me one more time.