It’s been a week, friends. A week and then some. And none of the things that have made it “a week” are bad or big or obnoxious, in and of themselves. But all put together? Those little things—computer not working properly (touchpad, touchscreen, keyboard, you know, all the things I use on a daily basis), dad falling again, hip pain flaring when I run, cat peeing on the bedroom carpet, family arguing over topics I think make no sense, dog barking incessantly, students being late—finally took their toll on me yesterday.

And I lost it.

Unfortunately, I lost it in the presence of a student. I lost it because of the student.

One who was late again. One who refuses to look at me when we’re talking. One who can’t seem to ask for help. One who gets mad at me when I try to help. One who doesn’t want to work with me but can’t be in the schools at this moment.

Regardless, he did not deserve my ire, even if his behavior was disrespectful.

So I spoke to his father, apologized to him via text, and today, he’ll get a heartfelt, in-person apology from me. And while it would be nice to receive an in-person, heartfelt apology from him, I won’t hold my breath. Because I’ve been teaching in some capacity for over twenty years, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the teacher is always wrong.

Regardless of the truth of the situation.

Three years ago, I walked away from my consistent teaching gig. This week, I was reminded why: I can’t help everyone, and trying just takes too much mental energy from me. I’ve got nothing left to give, folks, and I’m pretty sure most teachers feel this way these days.

Makes me really fearful of what education will look like in the future.

Image of colored pencils by Luisella Planeta LOVE PEACE 💛💙 from Pixabay.com.