Well I tried at least. When the kids were still throwing books and screaming at each other while I was trying to read the standardized test instructions, I lost my cool. For me, that doesn't mean yelling and cussing them out the way it does for some teachers. It means hyperventilating. I fled the room in a panic and was fortunate that the principal was in the hallway.
Three times in two months. Something is not right.
Is it really them or is it me? Hard to say. I wonder if my emotions aren't a little too close to the surface, perhaps an indicator that I'm experiencing more transition stress or reverse culture shock than would be easily apparent.
Several of my coworkers reminded me that I can't let the kids get to me and certainly can't let them see that they got to me. They say it in a friendly and consoling voice, and I know they want to make me feel better as well as give me advice. All I feel is frustrated that I can't do that. It doesn't feel like a choice over which I have any control. It just happens, often coming out of nowhere, and then I'm left trying to pick up the pieces. With all this practice, I'm getting the hang of that finally.
Off to the beach when Tim gets off of work. I think I deserve a vacation!