Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Teaching Anxiety Dreams
I hope it’s just a matter of my subconscious burning off some worries in time for the New Year, but I’ve been having bad teacher dreams all week. Either I’m late and unable to find the number to call in, or the kids keep getting louder and louder, and no way to simmer them down, even on Movie Day. All the time, my ex-boss is in the background getting sharper and sharper-voiced and judging my every move. This morning’s dream ended with my voice being drowned out by 40 kids as I mimed at them helplessly to put their heads down.
That isn’t what my current job is like at all. I almost always feel calm, supported, and productive. But I still do have mixed feelings about working towards being a school day teacher. I’m afraid that it’s be nothing but stress, that I’ll never know how to mange a classroom.
I also worry that I might have to give up all of my writing dreams-having a day job that I care about has already changed my poet schedule so much, and things are only going to get more demanding.
Last Fall and Winter, I wanted to prove that I was worth something. I also wanted to do something with this mountain of frustrated ambition. The urge for my own classroom came partly out of a craving for order, for safety, for a place where I’d be able to follow my conscience as a teacher.
Though I’m now one math class closer to the goal (Just checked: I GOT A B!) I’m still not sure it’s the right one. I don’t know if teaching is the right thing for me to do, but I also don’t know if one gets to worry about what one’s “Meant to Do” at 36.
I had lunch today with a favorite student and her also-a-favorite student mom. It reminded me about the nine thousand poems that little girl wrote over the summer, about that unequivocal win. So there’s that. Plus, we played Scrabble.