I take it way too seriously.
I thought I took it way too seriously.
I stress and I plan and I drive my husband nuts and I work too much at night and on the weekends and I go to my classroom on Sundays and I spend money on ink and laminating paper because I just have to do one more thing before I go to bed or else they might have 5 seconds where they don't feel stimulated and engaged and then I will be the worst teacher ever.
I worry about my kids. I worry that I will say the wrong thing and be the teacher they tell (bad) stories about 20 years later. I worry I will miscount and leave one of them outside after recess. They eat too much sugar at snack. Their parents didn't pack them mittens for recess.
But this week was a whole new kind of worry. On Wednesday, when one of them asked to go to the bathroom, I watched her leave. I watched her go and thought "Please God, just let her make it there and back".
That's when I knew I was scared.
It is a terrible feeling. It is a responsibility that is so much greater than I ever realized and it is nothing I ever learned in school or read in any book.
I like to selfishly think that being a teacher can be life changing for others. But am I prepared to be a life saver as well?
Do I have the capacity to do what those ladies did? Do I think that quickly? Do I love that much?
It's a raw feeling. I feel open and exposed.
I feel helpless.
I felt helpless.
Two days ago I read about #26Acts of Kindness. Do one act of Kindness for each teacher and student horrifically lost in Newtown, CT. This. This resonated with me.
Let me explain the feeling. Before I deliver my goodie with the note attached that reads "This random act of kindness is in memory of the 26 children and teachers lost in Newtown, CT. God Bless" my heart starts thumping. I get nervous. Excited. Alert. It is an active feeling. It is so little. It is SO little. But it is something and something, right now, is better than nothing. Nothing is sadness. Nothing is fear. Nothing is don't leave the house. Don't go in the building. Don't unlock the door. Don't let them leave the room. Don't show that you're scared.
Nothing is not a choice today.
These Acts of Kindness are completely selfish acts for me, disguised at selfless. Each act is done because it could have been my school and my classroom and it could have been me and it wasn't. How do I give thanks for that?
That pounding in my stomach and my chest, that is for me. And it is for them. It is for good and it is for hope. It is for the gift of today and my God do I hope it is for the gift of tomorrow, too.
Act 1: Gatorade for the next person who came to the gym.
Act 2: Olive Garden gift card for the next person in line at the drive-thru.
Part of me wants to see the reactions. But I know, there are new angels in heaven watching this story unfold.
