August 25, 2007
It was an exhilerating day. The entire day was such an adrenaline rush that it all seems like a blur. The only thing I remember clearly from that day is the overwhelming peace; I was born for this moment. It was the first day of my first year of teaching. Ever since then, even with all the ups and downs and broken hearts, shed tears and shaken fists, late nights and early mornings, meetings, conferences, failed students, failed lessons, legislation torture and reprimands, the entire first year was a privilege. At the core, I loved what I was doing and I was honored to do it. I had never felt such pride and excitement.
August 27, 2008
The day was long and drawn out. I was in a down mood all week. The week before, I had actually contemplated what it would be like to quit. I was wore out and wore down. The excitement and thrill of the first year wore off and the rose-colored glasses were no longer being worn. I was bitter and tired. While my mood has improved from the pre-school year training, I still don't have the same enthusiasm I used to. I don't have the same conviction that this was what I was born to do. I have started looking past the classroom to where my Master's degree could take me. My kids don't seem as sweet, as smart, as awesome. My days don't seem so meaningful, but more exhausting. I can never seem to stay ahead or even caught up. My lessons don't have the same flavor they once had.
I pray that God changes my heart and gives me the same peace I had last year. I was the same since of conviction and calling. I want the same desire and enthusiasm. I know I will never have the same amount of energy I had my first year - it was a rare thing. I will never have a first year again. But I do still want that love for teaching I once had. And as a disclaimer, I don't hate my job. I still enjoy it, but compared to last year, it's nowhere close. It's more exhausting and less rewarding than before and it's so disappointing. What a difference a year makes.