Tired. That's the word. And unmotivated. That's another good one.
I started the day with vim and vigor, but my energy has waned and I'm staring around at the chaos that is my classroom, with its haphazard few decorations (the rest are sitting on tables and in cabinets), with the piles of textbooks staring at me. We dare you, they taunt. You haven't poured your heart into your job in three years. What makes you think you can start now?
I want to, you know. I want to get back to teaching the way I know I can teach, with passion and committment and dedication to my work. I want to open up vistas for students, spark ideas, build confidence and skill. I want them to want to come to my class, even when they know I'll be tough and kick their butts.
But lack of sleep and the sleepiness of my new medication (which will wane, they say, as my body grows accustomed) mean that I've gotten little done today. I look back over the last ten hours and wonder--what have I accomplished? A little lesson planning with my Professional Learning Community colleagues, a handful of decorations put up, a good deal of semi-fruitless efforts to create reading quizzes for the summer reading assignments.
I'll be here tomorrow, but will have no time to work in my classroom. And I won't be able to stay after school. So Friday is my last chance. I'll have five or six hours during the day to tackle this room, tackle my remaining prep work. Next Tuesday the students descend upon us and I must be ready, come hell or high water.
Anyone have a handy teen just dying to spend an hour in a classroom helping a frazzled TeacherMommy get the room looking presentable? I might even be willing to cough up a buck or two...
3 years ago