It's 7:00AM, and I'm at my desk. Class will start in 45 minutes.
I was still here, less than twelve hours ago. I was here for the twelve hours before that. When I finally DID leave, I went home, and prepared for Friday's class, packed for the retreat, and finally fell into bed around 10:15PM. I had frantic, nerve-wracking dreams all night, and when my alarm finally sounded at 4:45AM, I woke with a jolt and a gasp. I could barely keep my eyes open on my drive to work.
It's not a good sign when you imagine getting into a car wreck and feel some relief, thinking, "At least then, I could take the day off..."
And it's only Wednesday.
Why this sudden terror and exhaustion? Why this seizure of anxiety after two solid days of teaching? Is this the devil?
I am dreading 6th period. I'm pretty sure they were largely featured in the terrible dreams.
Two thoughts, I'm finding comfort in. One, is that I know that, SOMEHOW, I will make it to the end of the day. 3:00PM will come. And bedtime-- glorious, blissful bedtime will come after that. I might even get to sleep in until, like, 7:00 tomorrow because the kids won't show up at the retreat center until later. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with how much I have to do, it's been a comforting thing to look at the final deadline and say, "SOMEHOW it will all get done. I don't know how, but it will." And it always has. And it will today. I will make it to 3:00PM, and by the time I do, I will have taught five high-school English classes.
Second: this is a little childish, but that is sometimes a pattern with me. And whenever I'm feeling especially knotted up with nerves, it's tremendously helpful to find myself in a moment of silliness. I am picturing myself as a solider. This morning, I am in camo gear, lying on my belly in a trench after a fitful night of sleep. I'm watching the sun rise through a barbed wire coil, and thinking that it's beautiful, and thinking that I need to GEAR UP for the battle today. I've got mud on my face because, word: I am hard core. I can do this. I have weapons. And I can take on 6th period. And besides, there are other hard core soldiers fighting with me.
(Cue bloggies to PRAY.)
Anyway. I will make it. I will survive. This is just teaching! Why am I so freaked out? I know the ending to the story: God wins. All I have to do is love others, and love Him in the meantime. He'll take care of the rest.
Roger that.
Showing posts with label nerves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nerves. Show all posts
Sep 2, 2009
Aug 30, 2009
The Eve
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow: I will face down one hundred students, divided into five different classes, as their teacher. Tomorrow, I will give students syllabi that I have spent hours writing, which describe texts and units spanning the entire year. Tomorrow, I will ask them to introduce themselves, and I will introduce myself to them. Tomorrow, these students will see my classroom-- they will see the art on the walls that I selected to stimulate their thinking; they will see the world map that I've hung with pins stuck in the places that I've been, with more pins at the ready for them to stick in the cities they've traveled to. Tomorrow, they will see the vocabulary words that have been hung in a border around the room, and they will see the sign I made that says, "You must learn the rules before you can break them," flanked on one side by the Mona Lisa, and on the other, by a cubist Picasso portrait. Tomorrow, I will show them the hockey stick that I've turned into a hall pass, and I will tell them sternly that they must be so tender with the hall pass. Tomorrow, they will sit in the desks that I've meticulously arranged in a circle formation, and they will listen as I review the syllabi via a Powerpoint with silly pictures to accompany the various points.
Tomorrow, they will be my students, and I will be their teacher.
Tomorrow, I will pretend that I've completed the summer reading assignments of "Crime and Punishment," and "Mere Christianity," instead of telling them the truth: that I was frantically scanning Sparksnotes the night before, trying to catch myself up on all major points. Tomorrow, I will smile, and give my Senior AP students the reading cards that were fashioned by a former teacher, requiring them to identify the novel's symbols, motifs, tones, syntax structure, diction style, genre, and so on-- many terms which I still feel shaky on myself. Tomorrow, if they ask me to explain what I mean by identifying the novel's "syntax," I will glibly say, "We'll go over all these terms later. For now, I'd like to see what terms you're comfortable with and what you're still unsure about. Think of this as a pretest. Do your best; we'll go over all of these later this week."
Tomorrow, I will get on my knees and pray with determination that God hold to His promise that in my weakness, He will be strong, and also well informed about literary analysis.
Tomorrow, I will wear a navy blue pencil skirt, a pink blouse, tan boots, and a thick brown belt around my waist.
Tomorrow, I will give my fellow English teachers boxes of tea, because English teachers love tea, and because I want to show them that I am thankful and excited to teach alongside them this year.
Tomorrow, I might get sick to my stomach, which is what my body does when it gets very nervous. But tomorrow, if that happens, I will square my shoulders and breathe into my diaphragm and lift my chin and say, "Good morning folks. Welcome to Senior year," and I will pretend that I never had a previous encounter with the toilet bowl.
(But tomorrow, please God, don't let me get sick WHILE the students are there. Amen.)
Tomorrow, I will meet my kids. I will begin to know their names. I will begin to hear their stories. Tomorrow, I will remember why it is that I LOVE this.
Tomorrow, I will thank God for the miraculous blessing of a job, of supportive co-teachers, of a wonderful principal, and for being in a school that allows me to post my fervent prayer in the form of a Bible verse outside my door. Tomorrow, I will pray for my students, and I will pray that He enables me to teach them as they deserve to be taught.
"Tomorrow" gets over at 3:00 PM. And boy-- tomorrow? That hour just can't come soon enough.
Tomorrow: I will face down one hundred students, divided into five different classes, as their teacher. Tomorrow, I will give students syllabi that I have spent hours writing, which describe texts and units spanning the entire year. Tomorrow, I will ask them to introduce themselves, and I will introduce myself to them. Tomorrow, these students will see my classroom-- they will see the art on the walls that I selected to stimulate their thinking; they will see the world map that I've hung with pins stuck in the places that I've been, with more pins at the ready for them to stick in the cities they've traveled to. Tomorrow, they will see the vocabulary words that have been hung in a border around the room, and they will see the sign I made that says, "You must learn the rules before you can break them," flanked on one side by the Mona Lisa, and on the other, by a cubist Picasso portrait. Tomorrow, I will show them the hockey stick that I've turned into a hall pass, and I will tell them sternly that they must be so tender with the hall pass. Tomorrow, they will sit in the desks that I've meticulously arranged in a circle formation, and they will listen as I review the syllabi via a Powerpoint with silly pictures to accompany the various points.
Tomorrow, they will be my students, and I will be their teacher.
Tomorrow, I will pretend that I've completed the summer reading assignments of "Crime and Punishment," and "Mere Christianity," instead of telling them the truth: that I was frantically scanning Sparksnotes the night before, trying to catch myself up on all major points. Tomorrow, I will smile, and give my Senior AP students the reading cards that were fashioned by a former teacher, requiring them to identify the novel's symbols, motifs, tones, syntax structure, diction style, genre, and so on-- many terms which I still feel shaky on myself. Tomorrow, if they ask me to explain what I mean by identifying the novel's "syntax," I will glibly say, "We'll go over all these terms later. For now, I'd like to see what terms you're comfortable with and what you're still unsure about. Think of this as a pretest. Do your best; we'll go over all of these later this week."
Tomorrow, I will get on my knees and pray with determination that God hold to His promise that in my weakness, He will be strong, and also well informed about literary analysis.
Tomorrow, I will wear a navy blue pencil skirt, a pink blouse, tan boots, and a thick brown belt around my waist.
Tomorrow, I will give my fellow English teachers boxes of tea, because English teachers love tea, and because I want to show them that I am thankful and excited to teach alongside them this year.
Tomorrow, I might get sick to my stomach, which is what my body does when it gets very nervous. But tomorrow, if that happens, I will square my shoulders and breathe into my diaphragm and lift my chin and say, "Good morning folks. Welcome to Senior year," and I will pretend that I never had a previous encounter with the toilet bowl.
(But tomorrow, please God, don't let me get sick WHILE the students are there. Amen.)
Tomorrow, I will meet my kids. I will begin to know their names. I will begin to hear their stories. Tomorrow, I will remember why it is that I LOVE this.
Tomorrow, I will thank God for the miraculous blessing of a job, of supportive co-teachers, of a wonderful principal, and for being in a school that allows me to post my fervent prayer in the form of a Bible verse outside my door. Tomorrow, I will pray for my students, and I will pray that He enables me to teach them as they deserve to be taught.
"Tomorrow" gets over at 3:00 PM. And boy-- tomorrow? That hour just can't come soon enough.
Apr 27, 2009
Monday Morning Jitters
Even after being in my student teaching school for the last 7.5 months, and even after teaching countless lessons, and even after taking over the classes full time for the last three weeks...
On Monday morning, I still feel like hiding under my covers.
Usually that lets up when I see the kids. Hopefully the trick works this morning as it has before.
I had too many things to do and too many big thoughts this weekend to blog about them. I need, like, a mental colander. Oh wait-- they invented that, didn't they?
Anyway-- sorry about the lack of blogging. Once I distill some of these big quandaries flying around overhead-- and get my frickin' homework done-- I'll try to share.
Also, I know most of you link to me from Annie anyway, but how awesome is this girl?? Give her a congratulations if you haven't already.
Good luck with the Monday beast, everyone.
On Monday morning, I still feel like hiding under my covers.
Usually that lets up when I see the kids. Hopefully the trick works this morning as it has before.
I had too many things to do and too many big thoughts this weekend to blog about them. I need, like, a mental colander. Oh wait-- they invented that, didn't they?
Anyway-- sorry about the lack of blogging. Once I distill some of these big quandaries flying around overhead-- and get my frickin' homework done-- I'll try to share.
Also, I know most of you link to me from Annie anyway, but how awesome is this girl?? Give her a congratulations if you haven't already.
Good luck with the Monday beast, everyone.
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