I was going to post something more melodramatic yesterday, but I decided to give the material some breathing space.
It’s been a tough week. A black-tile week. I pulled two back to back days supply teaching – one in a full day of kindergarten, and the second as a Special Education teacher in a withdrawl classroom. I had a third day lined up, but I backed out citing personal illness – In reality I was too scared to go back.
This job is orders of magnitude harder than anything I’ve ever done – and without crystallizing my own fears or giving life to my shortcomings, I could barely keep it together on the second day. There were moments, many of them, when I just wanted to run away screaming. But I didn’t, and that’s something to be proud of.
At the same time, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of walking through those doors a third day. So there’s shame there. I’m in doubt of my capabilities. I threw away 200 dollars because the idea of feeling that terror and anguish and isolation was too great. I never want to feel that way again – and I’m going to be feeling that way dozens of times again before it gets any better.