Born to Teach? Probably Not.

I have been having more betterish/better days at school lately than bad ones. Kids can be cool. Like the one that asked me if I go back to Chicago everyday after I am finished with school. That's cute.

But still at least once a week, I am completely wiped out and frustrated when things don't go my way. And sometimes I feel like a bad person. Today, I made a kid cry. Really, it wasn't my fault. He was being bratty all class. I told him to cut it out, and he didn't. I brought him to stand in front of the class, and he still didn't stop. So I put him in the hallway, where he cried. He was just bugging me, and I was stick of reprimanding him. But really, I had no idea that standing in the hallway was so traumatizing. If I had known, I wouldn't have put him there.

The kids have their days, just as I have my days. Sometimes our good and bad days match up in terrible ways, but sometimes, it's pretty okay.

But I know this isn't my passion, and I was reminded of this when a friend emailed me a story to look over. As I read the article, then read it again many times and wrote comments, I missed writing so much. Sure I write this blog, in my journal, posts for a website. But this isn't the kind of writing I get the most out of. It's not the kind where you are hunched over your computer perfecting a sentence word by word, delete, retype, think, think, think, what am I trying to say, and why does it matter? Hours of this is just as exhausting as hours of teaching, but at the end, I feel more accomplished in one than with the other.

I am inspired to start writing more, and with the heaps of free time I have on my hands, I'm going to do it. Maybe the warm and fuzzy feeling I get will trickle over into my teaching, thus making me a better teacher.