diary of a twenty-something teacher, part iii

I have to be honest, I was not going to post tonight. This week is one of those jam-packed, in-over-my-head, what-did-I-get-myself-into sort of weeks and I have not been taking it very well thus far. Usually when I am feeling overwhelmingly negative I run and hide from the world, revealing my inner despair only to my poor sissy and dearest Douglas, who have to listen to my overwhelming, overreactive interpretations of my crazy, chaotic, calamitous (perfectly normal) life. I try to keep this blog upbeat and inspiration, if only for myself, and avoid sharing on those days when I feel like the roof is caving in (most of the time)... but this evening I started thinking that, perhaps, my avoidance of writing when I am feeling overly-anxious is really just another way of allowing myself to wallow in my sadness and self-pity and avoid facing the fact that things really aren't that bad. I reminded myself that I absolutely love writing this blog, and I absolutely should not avoid the things that I love, especially not in some sorry attempt at self-preservation.

So, here is a confession, readers, think of me what you will: today I spent practically the entire day feeling sorry for myself. I am tired. I am stressed out. I miss my boyfriend. I am eating my feelings. This morning I woke up, after receiving fairly little sleep, to hurry off to work in preparation for my final formal observation of the year. I worked straight through lunch, supervising one of my many clubs, and finished the day only to scramble out the door to a meeting with the superintendent. After that I downed a coffee on my way back to meet foreign exchange students, who just arrived as part of another club activity, to ensure their proper arrival with their host families. Then it was off to pay for the pizzas that my club will be eating as part of a reception during lunch tomorrow and to the market to chow down on some dinner before two and a half hours of tutoring. I arrived home at 9 p.m., exhausted, with three stacks of assignments to grade, a quiz to create for tomorrow, and a need for several articles for a very difficult lesson I will be teaching (also tomorrow). I am also still struggling with the tail end of this illness. Teaching is no joke, let me tell you.

And here I am in my beloved bed, laptop propped up on my knees, reflecting on the last twenty-four hours. About an hour ago I was ready to go to sleep feeling absolutely horrible about my overly-busy day: all the things I had to get done, all the things still left to do, and the lack of time for myself. Now that I am actually thinking about it, however, today was not the disaster I was trying to convince myself it was. Yes, I am tired, and no, I did not have time to get to the gym or take photographs or to cook my dinner from scratch... but overall, today was pretty successful. I gave a solid lesson for the school principal today and had fun doing it (I even danced a few times). I put to rest any fears about the superintendent's observation from a few weeks past and got reassurance that sometimes I actually know what I am doing. I met a few wonderful people today and will get to spend the next few weeks learning about them and their culture. I made a little extra much-needed money. Doug's sister, Janine, sent me a picture of my man hard at work on his new bow, and I was reminded that I am madly in love with someone and, even better, he loves me, too. And, most importantly: I survived the day. So, really, when I actually force myself to think about it, today was pretty awesome. If I let it, I think tomorrow will be, too.

I am perpetually failing, but I am perpetually picking myself up and trying again as well... and that is something worth writing about.