Click here to read part I
Weekends are the hardest.
Paradoxical, this teaching. Monday to Friday is a blur of preparations, gone before dark, back with the sinking sun, washed dished, and (mostly) dreamless sleep. On Fridays, two of my English scholars have the same prayer request during worship: that the weekend goes by slowly.
And it does. Painfully slowly. Continue reading “Why Teaching Helps My Anxiety II”
I wish everyday ended like today.
It’s Week of Prayer, and I’m high on words of affirmation. You see, I’ve been taking some days off to finish my Master’s observations at a nearby high school (it’s a long story…sigh), therefore preventing me from relishing in my classroom as much as I’d like. Today was one of the few that I could stand for hours that race past.
“She’s back! You guys, she’s back!”
Their joy is palpable. Their smiles, sincere. My heart, bursting with gratitude. Continue reading “Why Teaching Helps My Anxiety I”
I watch students for aftercare sometimes. This means I do my best to keep them safe from each other and from themselves until their parents arrive to pick them up. They’re a joy. Continue reading “Given Away: Giving When It’s Still Yours”