To say my life is a *little* chaotic is an understatement. So far we've had two surgeries in the family, complications from the surgeries, loopy arguments that I hope are related to pain meds, torturous boredom, morning duty at work, and now a family feud. This is all on top of teaching 80 8th graders each day on less than 4 hours of sleep each night. My bones are literally aching right now. But that's not the point.
The point is that I have a choice. I can choose to give into the madness swirling around me. I can feel sorry for myself. I can fight back. I can blame the world. It's a fight sometimes. The people in my little universe are so caring that they will listen to me vent to the point of wallowing...and some of them encourage it. (Not you, NS!) However, this afternoon, in the middle of a little self-doubt about my abilities as a teacher--and a human--two students gave me a wonderful gift. "Miss, I don't get it. I never liked writing before. I hated it, but when you give us an assignments, I actually like doing it." My heart melted (and not in a *sucker* kind of way, thank you--I like to think I'm smarter than that). Later on, one of them reiterated the statement. "You don't understand. I used to hate anything that had to do with reading or writing, but your class is different."
Could I ask for anything more? I always said I wanted to make a difference in the world. Tonight, I'm savoring the moment of introducing two souls to the beauty of the written word.
The point is that I have a choice. I can choose to give into the madness swirling around me. I can feel sorry for myself. I can fight back. I can blame the world. It's a fight sometimes. The people in my little universe are so caring that they will listen to me vent to the point of wallowing...and some of them encourage it. (Not you, NS!) However, this afternoon, in the middle of a little self-doubt about my abilities as a teacher--and a human--two students gave me a wonderful gift. "Miss, I don't get it. I never liked writing before. I hated it, but when you give us an assignments, I actually like doing it." My heart melted (and not in a *sucker* kind of way, thank you--I like to think I'm smarter than that). Later on, one of them reiterated the statement. "You don't understand. I used to hate anything that had to do with reading or writing, but your class is different."
Could I ask for anything more? I always said I wanted to make a difference in the world. Tonight, I'm savoring the moment of introducing two souls to the beauty of the written word.
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