Smiled

I walked into my classroom this morning and smiled. I walked around and smiled.

The voice in my head

I'm plagued with a voice in my head.
This voice isn't kind, nor is it constructive. This voice is nothing but critical and out right mean.
This voice is the tiny murmurings of a job done poorly, the regret from past mistakes, and the reassuring words that try and cement my inadequacy. This voice I've learned from different people; my family, friends, and even those from church.
The voice continually shoots me down when I make a mistake or have an oversight.

This voice is telling me that this first year of teaching (says little voice, "may be your last") has been anything but perfect. The little voice is telling me that I shouldn't keep trying, that I need to find a way out. This little voice is telling me that I'll never be good enough, smart enough, or organized enough to complete and do all that is required of me here. This little voice is the one that tells me I'm tired too tired to work, as well as the voice that throws me under the bus once I get caught making these selfish choices. This voice takes all that I can control and makes it seem too difficult, too cumbersome, and too political.

S does not say /r/
I am not deaf
I've pulled the wedge---time will grow it back.

February 12

This is going to come as a surprise, but I love my job.
Yesterday, at the end of the day I found myself looking out towards the classroom and smiling. I was smiling at my students and how the interacted with each other. I was smiling at their spunky natures and their ability to jump back from just about anything. I was smiling because I knew in my heart of hearts, that I love this job.
I love this job. I love the students and I love being a teacher. I really do.
I constantly think about lesson plans, new strategies I can try, a new way to make my teaching better. I love to observe other teachers and see what they are doing in their own classrooms. I love that I finally understand how to organize my life, documents, and necessities to make a difference in MY students lives.
I love how I can take each one into my arms and give them a lovingly hug, while whispering into their ear, "I'm happy you're here and I love you."
I love getting ready in the morning and don't mind in the slightest having to drive to work at 7 in the morning. There is something amazingly euphoric about seeing the sun rise up in the east and make itself known as I cruise down south Durango.
These children are amazing. They may drive me crazy sometimes and there are days where my name has been said by an octave higher than my own voice, but I love them. I love them. I want what's best for them and I want them to succeed.
I am already sentimental thinking about when the year will be over and I'll have to say goodbye to my babies, my students, my kiddos.

In essence, I love my job. I prayed for the first time last night, thanking God with real intent for the job we were blessed with. I love my life. I love my job. I love my kiddos.  

November 17, 2014

I had a breakdown this morning about how much I hate this job.
I came to school in tears because I don't want to be here. I don't want to teach.
It isn't fair to kids and it isn't fair to me.

What have I gotten myself into.
You should be this miserable in a job, this alone, and this frustrated...for any amount of time.

November 14, 2014

About an hour ago I had a complete meltdown. I was so bogged down by the idea of having to have my principal come observe me that I was crying crocodile tears, the ones that hit you in the back of the throat, making it hard to breathe. I went on about how I don't feel like I'm measuring up and how I'm so scared of failing and losing this job when there is so much riding on it. My family life is riding on it.
If we didn't have this job our life would spiral into a mass waste of hellish unknowns. My husband wouldn't be able to get his medication, my baby wouldn't be able to have his doctor visits, and we wouldn't be able to afford anything. I'm not saying I get paid millions, far from it, but it is enough to take care of our needs when we are very frugal.
This job is everything and I just feel like I've hit the largest learning curve I've ever encountered.

Yesterday I lost complete control of my class for 30 minutes.
It was the longest, more vile 30 minutes I have had to date.

My husband made a good point though as I was trying to make eye contact through my tears. There are 25 different variables in my class. 25 little ones that all are independent thinking kiddos who think they know what is best for them at certain parts of the day. I know what I expect of me and sometimes the kids don't know that. I have realized that I have a "perfect movie" complex. Where everyone should know my script and follow it precisely as I want it to flow. That is overwhelmingly impossible. It will never be possible, nor would it be as eye opening or learning filled...people are unpredictable because of past experiences, as well as, the current state of affairs.

Today will either be amazing or blow up like WW2. (Bad reference)

What I have to focus on is the thought I had while driving to school:

It will happen whether you are prepared or not, so be prepared.

November 13th Cont.

Tomorrow is my first observation and I am terrified.
My I.A. suggested that I consecrate my room to God for the day..pray at each chair to ask God in helping them behave and do the best they can. I'm going to do that tonight after I finish my after school job.
I need this to go well, so that I have time to continue practicing and get better.

It doesn't change the fact that I am terrified though...absolutely terrified because each day I feel like a failure.

November 13, 2014

Today has been the worst. I have yelled more than I have taught and been short more than I have been patient.
I am in over my head and there is nothing I can do. I didn't choose this profession, it chose me. I followed a prompting and it has gotten me here; teaching little kids who I have no fondness of. who are little kids.
These kids are some of the brightest children. They come from very different walks of life and are all different in some way or another. There are children that can't write their name, where others can write full coherent sentences. Some children want nothing more than to the please the teacher, where others are out to get me emotionally, physically, and mentally.

The problem is, they don't know that they are driving me crazy.
They don't know that what they are doing is detrimental to their education.
They don't know because of the age they are.
They don't know that each day they are ripping a piece of my heart out and crushing it on the floor.
That each day I try my best to command a classroom but come off snide and patient; where I am anything but that inside.
I have been told that I have a soft countenance and wonderful demeanor towards the children. What they don't realize is how often I look at the clock, counting down the minutes till their next special, recess, and finally when the bell rings for them to go home.
When that bell rings I have 5 minutes of complete euphoria, where I realize I have made it through another day, finishing what I started, doing what is required of me. Then reality hits---I have to do the same thing the next day.

What a feeling it is to not want to wake up with fear imbedded in your chest trying to fight its way out. This depression that has consumed me in this first year of teaching is usually held to a standard of normalcy. There is nothing normal about being utterly depressed and down on yourself for 9 months in a year ...everyday.
Since the beginning of school I have had this weight on my shoulders that I cannot seem to shake. I have this weight that eats at my very fiber of being---I am not happy. But I am required to this job because of financial responsibility to my family. This must be done.

There was a story that my Sister-In-Law sent me about a month ago that has rang true for me since I heard it. The meaning of the story is to give insight into the feelings of parents who have children with down syndrome. I do not have a child with down syndrome, but I have been dealt a hand of cards that I was not anticipating and I believe that the story has meaning to my life.
This story you can read here:

That is where I found the title of my blog and that is the journey I am on to find Joy in my Holland. 

I will be using this blog as a place to write my thoughts; good and bad. I need to get past this and find job in what I have been given, otherwise life will cease to exist.