Today was one of the most frustrating days at work I've had in a really long time.
I am beginning to feel like the middle school is not the right place for me.
I feel like the unprofessionalism is spreading; it's morphing into what it was like the first year I came.
All I want is to ask questions.
All I want is straight answers.
All I want is what is best for kids.
And being accused of only thinking about my program makes me feel so unbelievably insulted. Mainly because if I were only thinking about my program I could have SO much more to say. I could be the loudest squeaky wheel there ever was. There is an amazing amount of pressure from the high school that comes down on Myriam and I because we are a 6-12 program. I could complain about all of that, about how every summer since I've been at the middle school (save for this past one) I've had to re-arrange curriculum, revamp the high school placement test, re-do, re-use, re-cycle.
But I don't. I don't mention it.
Instead I express my concerns that this is NOT what is best for students.
And I don't get answers; I get blamed.
I get snapped at.
I get condescended to.
"But don't you want to..."
And what if I don't? And what if I don't agree?
And the fact that some content areas are not required by the DPI, which is a valid piece of information that the scheduling committee uses, is instead used in what seems to me to be a threat.
Well, don't complain, because you know-you're not even required.
Well, I may not be, but that is the content that I was hired to teach. And I was hired, and am employed, am in fact tenured and I also hold a wide license and can teach any subject in grades 1-9.
So, then I start to think.
Maybe I should just leave. Maybe the philosophy that we are basing things on is just too different from my own. Maybe I need to chance schools or content areas.

I cried in a meeting today. I am hormonal, and frustrated, and angry and feel devalued. And because NINE MONTHS AGO AT THAT VERY HOUR MY SON DIED. And I felt so bad for myself. I felt so embarassed.

And so I was seven minutes late for my 8th graders. 30 of them, all in my room. I worried that they would be all over the place.

I walked in, and all 30 kids are sitting in their groups, working on their final exam review that they had started the day before.
I started cryign all over again.

Because THAT is why I do this. THAT is why I work so hard. THAT is why I give it all I've got. THAT is why the thought of getting new classes every 5 weeks makes me sick to my stomach because I'm not physically and emotionally able to give eveyrthing of myself in that amoutn of time.

That is why I became a teacher. To build relationships and trust and a community in my classroom. Not to shuffle kids through just to say we did.

Perhaps I'm better meant to serve somewhere else. Perhaps this will all blow over.

Right now I'm very, very concerned about my health. I can't let this stress affect me. I need to stay calm and relaxed because I have a baby to think about. And I'm not doing a very good job. I honestly have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach about meeting again about this tomorrow. I really don't want to go. I don't want to be stressed out and worried. But if I don't stand up for what I think is best for students, then I will end up teaching 5 week classes for the rest of this year, which is even worse for my baby. I will physically be unable to do it (the way I want and need to in order to feel like I'm giving the kids a real opportunity). Financially I'm not able to take a leave of absence, so I'm stuck either way.

I feel sick.