Out to Send the Very Best

Do you ever feel like in your job someone is going to knock on your door or cubicle wall to gently escort you to your car? They might let you know that it would be wise not to return to work in the morning because you've been found out. They realize you have no idea what you are doing and are basically wasting their money and time.

I felt that way often in my first years of teaching. There were times after looking at test scores or class work that tears where brimming on my eyes. Did they really not understand this? What more should I have done? Could I have stayed later and put together a 3-act play to show what a possessive pronoun looks like? Would creating a 10-part group project make a difference? Someone is going to find out that I just taught what was in the book because I couldn't think of another brilliant way to teach it.

I could truly live at my job. I could stay there all day and night and still find things that I need to do to be absolutely ready for the next day or upcoming week. I should really have my lesson plans all ready for next week, but I don't. I should really have all my copies ready for morning work for the next two weeks, but I don't. I should have all my reading centers sorted out to the exact time frame I need for completion, but I don't. Is someone going to find out that I don't have these things finished? And if so, what will they do--gently escort me out?

These are things that loom over my head at night, mostly on my Sunday nights. On Sunday nights I try to go to bed early. I lay in my bed and read, and read, and read, until finally my husband says I need to go into the living room to read. The clock that once said 9:16 now reads 12:07. Did I just read for 3 hours and not get tired? I try laying back down in bed, I close my eyes and visions of Monday dance through my head. I think about my lesson plans I need to finish, I think about those copies I need to make (and change my clock for 15 minutes earlier so I can get to the copy machine early), and I think about the centers that need to be organized. It puts me in a panic mode with a nervous stomach and I go back out to the living room and read until I FINALLY fall asleep.

Just recently, my mom sent me a link. She said to type in spastic colon Sunday + Hallmark into the Google search engine. I died. You need to do it, too. Please turn on your speakers quietly. Hallmark has a greeting card for everything including the nervous stomach, panicky, Sunday night blues.