The Full Week- Pushing Through to Friday

Wednesday

On Wednesday the roller coaster swept right back down to Monday’s low. I thought it was my anger and glare that caused the golden 15 minutes of silence so I ratcheted it up. If I was pissed off on Tuesday, this morning I was on fire, yelling and screaming at every little thing, “Keep your eyes on the book! Do you want recess?!” The kids were less confused and more despondent, and I was losing my own sense of control. Grandma James pulled me aside, “Calm down, Mr. Slaughter. All you keep on yelling is ‘SILENCE!’ Let the kids be kids. They are going to talk a little.” During my lunch break, I started thinking about my job search again, and I widened my search to more obscure jobs. I even applied to a job at the Zoo; I’d happily pick up poop every day. I wrote it over and over again in my journal: “I want to be home.” At least I was being honest.

I could tell you a hundred reasons why my behavior system was failing, but there was no way I could view it rationally. My fear of complete failure was making me second guess everything I was doing. It was fear that told me every inch that I gained was precious, and if there was any slip, I just might crash. I had read and reread at least a half dozen self-help management books telling me all the different things I should try out, and then there was my insane class screaming that those methods meant nothing. I just inched myself along the tight rope with an abyss below and what felt like a shotgun behind.

That afternoon actually went better. The journaling was helping me calm down, and somewhere along that roller-coaster ride, my kids figured it was time to take a break. Maybe they were getting just as dizzy I was.

Thursday

By Thursday, I was getting closer to the end of the week, and I couldn’t even think about reaching it, out of fear that I would jinx it. Due to a combination of holidays and mental health days, I hadn’t made it a full week since the first week of November. Everything was going decently until the afternoon. Laila was back from her suspension for choking Tybee, and this time Laila was going after Anna. Anna was another cute girl in the class who had a lot of the boys’ attention. In the beginning of the year, I didn’t really like Anna because she couldn’t stop talking. By this time, I had moved her to a corner all by herself; she still managed to write notes and make hand gestures just to keep up with the latest gossip. At recess, she lead cheers with the girls on the sidelines of the boys’ football games. Laila usually tried to take over the cheer game, but her cheers weren’t that good--she wasn't that good at rhyming. Anna left the game with most of the girls following right behind her, and Laila was alone. When they were back in my class, Anna kept on looking up from her writing to bat eyes at Evan who sat right next to Laila. It was too much for Laila, and she leaned up on Evan, “What do you think of my drawing?” Evan ignored her.
Then Laila announced,“Evan wants to kiss Anna!”
“No I don’t!”
“Did you hear that Anna, he doesn’t want to kiss you because your breath stinks!”
Anna muttered under her breath, “Not like your momma’s.” Too bad it was just loud enough for half the class to hear it, including Laila.

Laila walked up to Anna’s desk, threw Anna’s writing on the floor, and stood there. It was clear, Laila wanted a fight. But Anna didn’t flinch. She might have been holding back tears, but she kept her head up. As I waited on hold for security, Laila raised her shoe and smudged dirt on Anna’s desk. Laila was begging for a fight, but Anna continued to just sit there. “Anna how about you sit with Tybee until security comes.”   Immediately Anna gabbed with Tybee about whatever daily gossip as if nothing had happened, but it was too much for Laila. She walked over to Anna’s table again and raised her foot again. I kind of wished Anna would grab that foot and yank it over her shoulder, but Anna kept on talking with Tybee. With Laila’s back to me, I managed to sneak up behind and grab her wrist. Security arrived 30 minutes later and Laila was kicking and screaming obscenities at Anna while I held her on the carpet. Even though my anxiety was clouding my vision, something positive was emerging in the classroom. Both Anna and Tybee were standing up for themselves. But I still needed to stand up for myself.

After Thursday was done, there was just one more day to finish the full week, and I started to think about ways to get out again. In my journal, I wrote these exact words, “We should do a map tomorrow and math games... I don’t think I can make it. What I would do just to escape…” There was one voice trying to stay positive, “you can do this!” but the other voice knew it was a lie. I had promised myself that I would be honest in my journaling, and it appeared that there was one safe and mandatory choice: I had to quit.

Friday

It was 8:37am, and I had to pick up the kids in three minutes.  This is what I wrote: “I WANT OUT. GET ME OUT! ANXIETY IS KILLING ME!! Calm down… calm down. It’s going to be okay. It’s only one day. On Monday you’ll have the psychiatrist. It’s okay.” I had an appointment with a psychiatrist on Monday, and I hoped the appointment was just the thing to save me. The morning went decently, but I had to get treats during my lunch break for the grab bag that afternoon. As I was in the car driving, I wrote in hardly legible writing, “I’m in the car, and it’s back!! I need to QUIT. Come on Slaughter get a grip. Don’t let 7 year olds ruin your life… YOU CAN DO THIS!” Not only was I driving, but I was also stuffing a sandwich down with one hand, and writing with the other. I was in Memento, but instead of trying to find a killer, I was running from one.

I made it through the afternoon, and yes, I made it through a full week. Instead of cheering after getting off the roller coaster, I threw up. I knew that it was only two days before I had to get right back on it.