I've decided to take a break from classes in the spring. I've been going non-stop since January. I'm so worn out and sad. I'm worried that my anxiety meds (which double as depression meds) aren't working as well as they used to. I've found I have a very short emotional capacity. By my third class of the day (aka after 3 hours of teaching), I can barely stand to talk to anyone. I know that I'm sleeping better than when I was off the meds, but I'm not sure about the rest of my problems. Are they job related or neurochemical related? I'm tired of fighting the kids and the parents and the administration. I just got an email from a parent saying they're pulling their kid from my class. He failed my class because he wouldn't listen to a word I say, not necessarily because I'm a bad teacher. Why don't people understand this?
I really love the fall colors on my drive home. A nice quiet car ride through the country is a nice way to wind down before I get home. While I recognize that one of the reasons fall is so nice is that it's fleeting, I don't like the season that succeeds it. There was once an email I received called "Enough." I think it's appropriate, so I've copied it below:
Recently, I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at a
regional airport. They had announced her departure and standing near the
security gate, they hugged and she said, "I love you. I wish you enough."
She in turn said, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love
is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom." They kissed and she left.
She walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there, I could
see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy, but she
welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it
would be forever?"
"Yes, I have," I replied.
"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?" I asked.
"I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the
reality is, the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.
"When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I
ask what that means?"
She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other
generations. My parents used to say it to everyone."
She paused for a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, she
smiled even more.
"When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a
life filled with just enough good things to sustain them," she continued. Then,
turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from
memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."
She then began to sob and walked away.
regional airport. They had announced her departure and standing near the
security gate, they hugged and she said, "I love you. I wish you enough."
She in turn said, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love
is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom." They kissed and she left.
She walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there, I could
see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy, but she
welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it
would be forever?"
"Yes, I have," I replied.
"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?" I asked.
"I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the
reality is, the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.
"When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I
ask what that means?"
She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other
generations. My parents used to say it to everyone."
She paused for a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, she
smiled even more.
"When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a
life filled with just enough good things to sustain them," she continued. Then,
turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from
memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."
She then began to sob and walked away.
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