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not over it yet…!

January 26, 2015 , , , , ,

50378500_400x400Once upon a time, a Brand New Teacher was stopped, mid-skip, by a Well-Meaning Established Teacher.

This was their conversation:

WMET: “You’ll get over it.”

BNT: “Get over what?” Genuine puzzlement.

WMET: “This.” Deadpan.

BNT: “I’m sorry, I’m going to need a little help here. This, what?”

WMET: “THIS. The THIS! The skipping, and the frolicking down the hallways, and the super-enthused + cheery “hellos” in the morning, sans caffeine no less, and the sickening interest in the preparation, and the colours, and the energy, and the faith in humanity, and the being at one with The Teaching Gods, and…the hope. Disgusting.

BNT: “Well, good morning to you, too!” (You poker-faced, peacock puffed-out, GARDEN GNOME of a creature!)

WMET: “Better a state of perpetual disappointment than entertaining hope; better a glass half-empty than half-full…you need to pad yourself up so that when things annoy you, fall apart, disappoint, challenge you to the max, you are only half whacked. Self-preservation, my dear, self-preservation.” O Wise One that I am.

BNT: “But I like my work. I like investing. Is that strange?”

WMET: “Yes, if you want to last longer than three years. You’ll burn out, you’ll fizzle, you’ll be whumped, you’ll get bitter + twisted…and THEY, your darling students, won’t care ANYWAY. They never do! Take my word for it, follow my lead; preserve + protect, don’t smile for at least 6 months, don’t hope, and for God’s sake, don’t be so bloody cheerful. It PISSES ME OFF!”

BNT: “That’s what I do. That’s how I am. That’s how I interact. If I am not cheerful, dedicated, hopeful, colourful + optimistic about my interactions, I am sure I’m not supposed to be here. If that ever happens, I’ll know I’m in the wrong profession.”

WMET: “Suit yourself. Bloody young whippersnapper.” (Last part muttered)

BNT: “I won’t get over it. When I’m over it, I will know for sure it’s time to leave the profession.”

How did this play out?

Still here. Still here with full heart.

That’s not to say that it’s been a pristine + perfect ride. The last 11 years of full-time teaching have whumped me good and proper; I know the language of pure and distilled sarcasm and can implement icy comebacks with a poker face, I can hand out detentions with a grin, I have chain-eaten entire packets of Tim Tams, hugged wine bottles, slugged my way down the hallway with barely a twitch of life some mornings, and actually grunted at students in moments of absolute disillusionment.

But I am still here!

And I’m still ridiculously hopeful, still smiling, still running down hallways illegally. Still stupidly excited about brainstorming new assignments, interesting and whacky conversations with wonderful young developing adults, still interested in every way. Still engrossed. Still waking up totally excited at the opportunity to affect change, blessed to interact with the ideas of students whose dreams are limitless, honoured to have the momentum of my world challenged every single day by extraordinary young minds.

So, Mr Well-Meaning Established Teacher?

It’s been 12 years and I’m not over it yet.

Should we call it quits for your sake? 😉

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