Counting Down the Days to Thanksgiving

Weekends meant I could write everything down, a needed mental release. But no matter how much I put down on paper, Monday always approached, relentlessly. This Monday morning I felt ill, but there was no fever. There was never a fever. I had seen the nurse enough times to know every time I thought I had a fever, I didn't. If there was a pill that could have given me a fever, I would have taken it. Better to be sick and get the days off, then never to have been sick at all.

It was a three day week until Thanksgiving Break, and I told myself three days were nothing. I had gone through months and months of this crap; three days would be over before I knew it. Or so I thought.

Journaling was now less soothing and more addictive; if I felt the anxiety building, I sat down and wrote. This Monday, when I sat down with my cereal and morning coffee, I wrote. When I walked into the classroom at 7 in the morning, I wrote. When I walked down the halls to pick up the kids, I pulled out my pen and a torn hall pass and wrote.

This Monday morning, I lined the kids up without word, but there was an unmistakable grimace on my face. Gabe was my youngest second grader, and it was difficult for him to sit still. This morning he rushed to line up first,with his hands behind his back and his chest puffed out. He was one of my most difficult kids, and he was trying very hard to impress his teacher. It was a new day for Gabe, and things could have been different. I just glared at him, thinking, “Now you are acting like an angel after you have driven me crazy. Now you stand up straight because the other teachers are here. As soon as you walk in my door, you will go right back to acting up!” Ms. Vaughn, a cloying, young Teach For America cadet, looked at me with shock in her eyes and motioned to Gabe, “Wow! Gabe, you are doing such a great job lining up!” It was like a caption in the handbook, “Don’t focus on the negatives, give specific praise to build them up.”

But I had been specifically praising all year, “You are doing a great job sitting still, Gabe! Wow Gabe, you are raising your hand so patiently, I appreciate that. Gabe, I’m glad to see you started right away on your work.” It wasn’t working. He was still struggling to be the best line leader he could be. But in my fog, I couldn’t see it.