Our Fears.

I want my students to see how far they have come throughout the year. I want my students to be respectful to me, but more importantly to eachother. I want my classroom to be safe. I am reflecting upon the vision I created for my classroom and it does mot mirror the reality. Instead, these days are becoming more and more frustrating. They are fighting. They are talking. They are doing what they want, when they want. I request something as simple as sitting quietly and half of the class could care less that any words came out of my mouth at all. They will respond when I yell, as many of the other teachers who are facing the same end of the year struggle have resorted to. But I refuse. I have finally come to see that while it may be fulfilling in that very moment, in the long run it does nothing, but swiftly break down the respect that took so long to build up. I always regret it. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. Frustration is high and productivity has hit an all time low. How can I be strong so that my students will want to finish up the year doing whatever they can to prepare themselves for 4th grade? How can I give them that final push to take pride in themselves and what they are creating? I wish they could understand how much I care for them. I try to tell them, but I don't think they understand. I love them by pushing them to be their best. I love them by making them read everyday. I love them by forcing them to face the consequences when they make bad choices. Unfortunatly, in their minds these statements of love are actually acts of hatred. My heat breaks. I don't want to count away the days because I want each of them to be worth something. I have worked too hard to end this on such a bad note. As I write, I am beginning to realize this is all a self-centered battle. I am afraid to be finished. I am afraid to leave here feeling as though I have failed.

Holding on to what is good:

Where I am.

I have lived in a bubble my entire life. I never realized it before,
and now that I am out, I hope I never go back. It's much harder
outside the bubble. Its raw, it is rough. It is truth. I am a better
person outside the bubble. I understand the world and the density
of the problems we face a little better. I am aware of different
cultures, different ideas and different lifestyles. I am positive that
most things are neither black nor white, but gray. And no matter
how frustrated and fatigued I get, I have to thank God for guiding
me here, outside the bubble. This is where I belong.