Feeling: frightened
Listening to: anything that can distract me
Reading/Watching: old episodes of Ugly Betty

Thursday, at the end of my class day, after a long, frustrating time of trying to keep the kids restrained enough to learn a song (it's still a job for a zookeeper sometimes, not a choir director), I was tired and aggravated and just looking forward to going home.

I thought it would be the last straw when one of my earnest little sixth-graders walked up and quietly announced her intention to drop choir. "There are mean kids and they pick on me and call me stupid, and I really like to sing but..." and she started to cry.

It's not technically allowed, but I gave her a hug. And I told her when I was in sixth grade, I got picked on a lot, too. I had crazy curly hair (like her), and I wore glasses (like her), and I really, really loved to sing.

"Don't let them take that away from you, honey. Don't let mean kids destroy something that you love. Because that means they win. Stay strong, and I'll be here with you, and eventually those kids will give up or go away, but you'll still be here."

And as I said it, I heard myself speaking.

It's pretty rough right now. Some of the kids are just about unbearable. They ask me when I'm going to quit, if I've been fired yet, so on and so on. Because I'm strict and I'm tough and I don't let them sit around and waste my (our) time. They'd love to get rid of me so they can go back to being lazy and having a free period in the day (although at this point, if they're successful in running off a second teacher they're more likely to get a prison warden or something).

I've yelled so much I lost my voice this week. I've stressed so much I also came down with a cold (which is becoming bronchitis). Today I had to use gestures to communicate, because my throat was aching and my voice cracked if I spoke above a whisper. When a student was acting up and ignoring me, I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and he accused me of hitting him. I had to fill out an entire report. Then the principal recommended I go home early and rest.

I got home and cried. And cried. And cried. My poor dog was so confused, she just lay there next to me and licked the tears off my chin.

But unless this blows up into a huge thing and I get fired, I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sticking it out. Because this is what I love, and some punk kids are not going to take away what I love. Even if it's not recognizable as music right now, it will be. I have to push through it.

...also because if I give up now I have no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. There is a part of me that is tiny and shaking and sick and cowering and I don't know whether I want to kill her or become her.

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