Today was a little strange: walking among the other teachers with a feeling of being an imposter, a dead man walking. I hated going to school. It took a bite out of me, but TO HELL WITH THAT. I have classes and students.
The students, the classes, that is what turned my day around. It started with the the first class. The highly pubescent and distracted third form. We do not always see eye to eye, but today they were fresh and friendly and the material worked in our favour: mechanically understandable, short explain, lots of assisted practice. We drilled into it and emerged victorious. We worked together.
I had been expecting to spend the day as a floating skull of unhappiness and my classes saved me. They were hopeful and cheerful when I was short of those qualities. They demanded teacheriness of me, they demanded my commitment and I could only respond and, in responding, rejoice. They woke me up from the small cramped space of unhappiness and failure. They reminded me that...
I love teaching. I truly do. It hits me in the heart and I will never stop doing it. No matter what.