Comfort Food

My lesson in first hour went well, though I kind of sputtered towards the end of it. For the last few minutes I let the students see me think instead of just seeing me do. That was the only suggestion Col Fitzwilliam (my coordinator) had after his observation. I came out of that feeling pretty good about everything.

Second hour prep was okay for the first half-hour. I told Lizzy that I needed to refocus and calm down before third hour, because I knew what I needed to do for the rest of the day. So I started doing some sudoku puzzles.

Then the accompanist, Mary Bennett, came in. At this point, Lizzy and Mary began commiserating about some issues they were each having. It was impossible to just tune them out, because I'm used to them talking through their issues with me as a sounding board. However, today I couldn't handle it. I just sat there, getting more and more anxious as I tried to solve a stupid sudoku puzzle that should NOT have been as difficult as it was.

By the time third hour rolled around, I was completely tied up in knots. I wrote down what I was feeling in one of my journals and later, I talked through it with her. But back to third hour.

The point where I started to feel like a functioning human again was when during a transition in her lesson, one of the girls asked Lizzy, "Is Ms. Renas gonna teach today?"

The girl who asked that (who shall be referred to as Anne) is a girl who has usually not participated to her full extent, and while she is a nice girl, she's been making some unwise friendships that have affected her grades.

On the handout that I gave the classes yesterday (which I mentioned in my last post), I told third hour they could draw/write on the back of it if they were done. A group of seventh grade girls? They were elated. Anne looked up at me as I walked past her and whispered, "I'm gonna write you a letter!"

When I graded her quiz, I flipped it over to read what she had written: "You are a really cool teacher, and really nice. I love being in choir with you." I could see she had hastily added "and Mrs. Bennett" to it at the end.

When I got home tonight for dinner, my mom had made carbonara. Carbonara is my absolute favorite comfort food, and after today it was exactly what I needed.

That moment with Anne (coupled with her note yesterday) was my educational comfort food: it was exactly what I needed to keep me going throughout the day. And while I may have forgotten that moment later on (ie, sixth hour), I felt completely at peace when I related it to my parents at dinner tonight.

It was my carbonara for the soul. I really don't much care for chicken soup.