what's tough

This is exhausting! You think you know, but you have no idea. My class is lovely but tough. Extremely tough and the challenges are constant. I've been feeling so negative which does not suit my personality, the behavioral expectations at this school are so high that one scholar with their eyes not facing forwards while in line in the hallway warrants a snap and a redirect. Tomorrow I am trying a different approach, a chain that will hang from the ceiling to which I will add links, not take them away. This exhaustion is not sustainable. To add to the mix, my purse was stolen two nights ago right from my chair inside of a restaurant in union square, along with my wallet, my cell phone, my keys, and thus my alarm clock. I was seated facing someone who was apparently so taken by my incredible beauty and illustrious shine that he did not even notice the purse being taken! Who would have thought. More than anything, this is a hassle right in the midst of an I-really-don't-need-this-right-now-week. And without an alarm clock, I used my back up alarm last night which, alas, did not go off this morning at 5:30 AM. The leftover exhaustion from sitting in the police station until midnight on Tuesday evening left me with such a need for sleep that when my alarm didn't go off I slept until 8:15, woke up to see light outside and knew that I was in trouble. I was two hours late for school in my first week, humiliated, embarrassed, mortified and without coffee or makeup.

Though sometimes I just need to stamp my foot at 6 pm and say to myself, "I must go home right this instant," I do love my job. I have never worked so hard in my life and I never have any idea what I am doing, but I do love it. The conclusion that helps me sleep at night is realizing that no matter how hard I try, I probably am not going to know what I am doing for the next year of my life. It is my first year of teaching, and anyone I have ever asked told me that their first year of teaching was rough, not smooth, and often I have even heard the word, "disastrous," involved. Mine is not disastrous, thankfully. In a way, I am not terrible and I actually am pleased when things do not go well because at least I am confident that the next day things will go a teeny, tiny, little bit better.

I did get my first real love letter. It read, "Ms. Hahn, I love when you teach. When you are happy I am."