Bring It On

This time last year, I was a first time teacher who was getting overwhelmed trying to get his Alternative Certification, in an inner city school district, and trying to figure out how I was going to be the white version of Jaime Escalante or Joe Clark. And just like always, when I feel my back against the wall, I closed my eyes and fought like hell. The problem with fighting like hell with your eyes closed is that you don't know where your punches land. 

I remember feeling this way in college, when I was chairing an organization. Out of my desire to do the job perfectly (that is the only way to do things I was brought up to believe), I pushed hard, cussed and yelled and kept moving. This didn't always help the kids and more often that not, gave me a headache from beating my head against a brick wall. Just like in college by the time I got it under control, I'd hurt everyone, my credibility and I felt like hell all the time. The only difference is that last year, I worked out a lot, and still do. It's the only way to control my anxiety. Work out or not eat. Since not eating makes folks want to commit me to a mental institution I work out. 

I try not to let that get out of control. But the desire is always, always, always there. The same way that for the most part I'm the worst person in the world at math, but I have a pretty good running total of my calories consumed everyday. I'm never off my more than 50. I know it's crazy and obsessive, but it's better than it was. This is the only thing I can control. 

I can't control kids. I can't control what they say, what happens when they leave my room or go home. Even if I want to. I can't control what they remember or what they care about. But after praying like some fervent, superstitious Catholic (I always picture Bloody Mary, she prayed when she peed) I have realized that that is Ok. I can only be a bit of calm in the storm that they may have to go home to. I can try and make them laugh and make them see. And even If I don't succeed, even if I am hardly perfect, no one is. Save Jesus (not one of my kids Jesus, but you know, the Son Of God). But, if I don't try, then I've done something even worse. I've given up, and become a hypocrite. So here's to trying. Here's to the brick wall, but this year, I'll try to wear a helmet.