Thanksgiving Break Blues

First of all, this break? Sucked since literally day one.

On Tuesday night, around one, my husband’s pager went off and it was a suicide attempt for a seventeen year old girl. I knew without knowing the address who it was, because I know my kids. I laid awake, cried, and prayed, which isn’t my normal at all. When I woke up at six, I had a text that requested I call the sender, they didn’t realize I could hear over Nate’s pager, and well, my student mentioned me by name a couple times. (Come to find out, after I talked to her mom, I was one of the first people she mentioned.)

She’s doing okay. And she texted me, while I was at the dentist (did I mention this break fucking sucks?) and the first thing she said was sorry. I assured her I wasn’t angry and she didn’t owe me an apology, and I laid it out there that I was scared shitless, and my heart hurts for her.

I realized after that conversation that this is the second time in a year that I’ve had a student do something with life-changing implications and text me sorry. I told my husband I don’t want to teach anymore, because it’s fucking hard. It’s not the admin, or the parents, or the tests, or the fucking stupid day-to-day shit, it’s this. It’s feeling like a parent to 80 kids that aren’t yours, and honestly, are too old to even be yours. It’s the heartbreaking fact that I almost lost a student this week. It’s the fact that they know I care and that’s why they need me and vent to me and apologize when they do something major.

I wish I could pull back. I mentioned moving because I think it could help, but it wouldn’t. This is who I am as a teacher. And yes, it makes my life really, really, fucking hard, but it’s also why I am good at my job. And I am. My students may not be the strongest writers, and most of them have atrocious grammar, but they have a teacher who daily fights her own demons to help them take on theirs. It’s exhausting. It’s painful. It leaves me socially alienated from everyone in my life some days. But. They need me. And I need to do this, I guess. This is why I teach, this is what I’ve been called to do. But. Let me tell you. Some days I wish it wasn’t.

And then, to continue my break from hell. My toddler won’t nap. My husband has to work every fucking day except Sunday. And I planned to get shit done around the house and with grad school, and I have nothing to give anyone.

No patience. No empathy. No time. No kind words.

I’m snapping at my boys. I’m zoned out. We spent all day watching Paw Patrol while I beat myself up for not getting more accomplished.

I don’t want to go back to school. But I’m over this fucking break too.

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