there’s something up there it slipped through the cracks . . .

—up there, versaemerge

I don’t have to work for three weeks.  Then six weeks to go.  Which is nice when my one day a week job is sort of stressing me out and making me not want to go to it.  When my coworker and I complain to each other before, after and during shift.  But yet she still begged me to come back next year when I told her I was considering not coming back.

My job involves fourth graders who swear like tiny truckers.  Other fourth graders who say “Hah, you can’t control children”.  Lying.  A plethora of physical fights.  Stuff that is beyond the normal that I am used to dealing with – I can deal with sports injuries and throwing markers and tears.  I can do that.  I can’t do the disrespect to themselves, others and my coworkers and I.  I suck at that.

Kids who need help I can’t give them.  Kids who we try to reach, but an hour a half a week is not enough to reach someone if they keep pushing you away.  I’ve learned that.  Cold reality.

Hopefully I’ll recharge over the next three week and feel like I can make a difference again.  Right now I just feel like I can’t.


2 thoughts on “there’s something up there it slipped through the cracks . . .

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