Carry on

Every time challenges arise (so, you know, often) I feel a pang of guilt that I shouldn't be working.  Mark needs me at home.

Except he really doesn't.

If I weren't working I would probably see him more in a day but not a lot when you consider his busy schedule.

It occurred to me that maybe I am grieving (for lack of a better word) and trying to adjust to the change of lifestyle and circumstances, kind of like moving to a new city.  It takes time to feel like yourself.

Some days I get notes from students professing their love and gratitude for me.  Some days they hug me and eagerly tell me their news.  Some days the light of learning glows in their eyes and they are enthusiastic and clever.

Some days they are rotten.  They roll their eyes and are sassy.  They drop one of my books on the floor and mindlessly step on it.  They refuse to work.  They steal from each other.  They are mean on the playground.  They refuse to try.  They refuse to stop talking.  They refuse to stay in their seats.

Those are the days when I wonder, what am I doing?  Some days I'm scowling on the inside all day long.  (But I must have a passable poker face because one of them told me recently she couldn't imagine me getting mad.)

Every once in a while I get an inkling of it mattering though.  I had a girl tell me she wants to be a teacher because of me but she wants to stay home with her kids too.  I told her that was exactly what I'd done and she nodded in major approval of both her life choices and mine.

I taught them yesterday that brang isn't a word.  They were shocked and surprised and told me all the people in their lives who use brang as a word.

"Not a word," I said.  "Not. A. Word."  If they remember that one fact, I will have made a difference in the world.

The other day I was filling out security questions associated with a password change.  One of the security questions was your third grade teacher's name.

Everyone remembers their third grade teacher's name.  It was at once validating and concerning.  How will they remember their third grade teacher?  I want them to feel loved and encouraged.

I guess this all my way of telling myself to keep trying.