Somehow though, in all the terror of middle school, I came to love the wretched students. I loved the boy who threw his gum at the wall every day and the girl who hated my clothes. I loved the girl who told me my assignments were too hard and that she shouldn't have to "do crap like that" in eighth grade. She's somehow quite delightful to be around. In fact, I think I might miss her.
Somehow, through all the moaning and groaning, I must have liked what I was doing because now that it's over, it's bitter sweet. I certainly dread looking for a job as an English teacher, but maybe teaching on a secondary level isn't all that bad. Or maybe I just don't think it's all that bad because it's over.
I miss you all a lot. I want to keep going to school, right there in Rexburg, where it's winter 11 months of the year. It's safe there, and I don't have to worry about finding a job and becoming a grown up. I can feel a tangent coming on, so I'm going to head for bed instead. (Wow, nice internal rhyme in that sentence.)
--Empo
2 comments:
Perfect internal rhymes. And a marriage date? If not, you need to go on for a MA. You'd love it, and they'd love you. (This is me not giving advice or being too curious? 'Cause you know how I always mind my own business.)
I can relate to you, Emily. I felt the same way about my student teaching. I hated every minute, and yet, I didn't. There's something about the students that sucks you in and makes you feel, I don't know, worthwhile, or something. I feel the same panic as I try to find a job and admit to myself that I am looking for the very job that I vowed never to do (see previous post). I feel like I am admitting defeat. But I guess you never know what's around the corner.
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