Twice a Day

    It has come to my attention that the previous posting has, due to recent events, changed from darkly humorously to "in questionably taste." I believe that if I leave it up long enough that, like a clock that is right twice a day, it will again change to simply darkly humorous. I hope.
    In that spirit, and looking forward to the possibility that the urge to blog might not strike again soon, I've decided to write a sort of generic blog entry.
    This morning I was a few minutes late leaving the apartment, so I missed the early train. Lots of unfamiliar faces on the late train. I still managed to make it to my classroom before most of the other teachers and students. My classes were not as hard to manage as I had imagined them to be last night when I awoke at 2 am wondering what I would be teaching. I was shocked by some of what my students said, and what they didn't seem to know, or hadn't seemed to ever think about, but I was happy to have this new knowledge, and to be involved in a job that allowed me to learn these things, and try to do something about them. Following my last class of the day I felt very fatigued and began fantasizing about going home, lying on the couch and ordering chinese delivery, and then come to the realization that I can't do this three nights in a row. As the end of the day arrives, I look over the work my students have done that day and feel a sense of frustration and futility, but discover some small word or phrase of independent thought or honest learning that makes me think it might be worth it to return to work the next day. I wave  goodbye to the security guards and begin my walk to the subway.
    I figure I could just leave that up until June.

Comments

[K.]

Thanks for writing this more generic post which I think reveals some of my own reoccuring themes in teaching. Every day I become more convinced of the need for me to be there as a caring, engaged adult insisting my students learn something. Every day I am not sure if they are getting anywhere when I take their work home. At the end of the year, I'm surprised by their progress and my own fatigue.

[HappyChyck]

It's the little things...