I'm not sure whether to write this or not. As I've done many times before I'll start typing, possibly save as an unpublished post and then feel loads better for getting it all down in front of me.
Whenever I have a bad few days I avoid my blog. I don't want to come here when I feel down or stressed, this is a happy and positive place for me and for those of you who read my blog too.
Saying how it is right now isn't easy for so many reasons. This is hard for me. As a woman who was adopted as a baby I've struggled my whole life with feeling rejected, worrying that people don't like me.
Often they don't to be honest. I have lots of theories about why this might be, but really who knows what they think. I know I'm straight talking, frank, don't suffer fools and have a dry sense of humour. That can get right up people's noses. On the other hand I'm really loyal, kind, very soft inside and think I'm ok. I used to struggle being the outsider, now I'm happy with that.
Even with my blog I wanted it to be liked, a place that's great to visit. Why wouldn't I? For the most part I'm a positive happy person and that's what you get here. I feel bad that I barely find time to blog let alone visit other blogs. I do guilt well. A wise young man, who I teach, told me today that I shouldn't feel so guilty if my plans for him don't work out because he knows I care.
Ocassionally I get down. In my twenties I got so far down that it frightened the hell out of me so I've managed to avoid that place ever since.
I also get awkward with people I really like. I really want them to like me I guess and then I can feel myself not being as relaxed as I'd like. Anyway I'm taking a punt in being open and just a little bit honest now and if that puts you off my blog then there's not much I can do about that is there.
This week I've felt so knocked and battered that I can't think straight.
I've been undermined for months at work for what I'm not seen to be doing that I've felt so low this week that I can't shake it. I feel vulnerable and I don't like it. Thank heavens for my man and my colleague who have supported me. A great parents evening last night really helped lift my mood a bit too. One of Miss Rosey's teachers welled up with pride saying how both girls were a credit to themselves, the school and us. We're also beyond rubbish at maths and she got an A in this half-terms test. Wow, can that be my daughter who understands numbers?
At work it should be my students who are the trying part, but they're not. I do a very hard job trying to engage teens who have been failed in some way. School and parents might have thrown them out when they were 13 or so. It's horrifying just how many parents turn their backs on their children and how many schools fail to deal with their behavioural disorders or the bullying they're suffering. Some of my students are a pain in the bum (they use the C word as casually as popping toffees in their mouths), some of my students are really quiet, one was an elected mute (but I still found a wicked sense of humour in there). All of them are without any self-esteem at all. It's really only the Autistic students who have a better opinion of themselves. In the main they test and test with their behaviour, my colleague and I don't react as there's nothing that shocks us. We just act the same all the time and they give up in the end realising we can be more annoying in our daftness. Then we start working on having fun, trying to get some childhood silliness back. There's so much more to what we do than that, but it works.
We become a bit like Nanny McPhee and once they don't need us they don't want to leave our intense ten week course. Some don't and stay for twenty or thirty weeks if they're not ready. We become an odd family and a safe place to be. I welled up this week when one student told my boss I'd done more for her than her mum ever had and that she felt so calm being with me so she could concentrate at last.
The successes of our students are immeasurable. For me it's not about the education we give them so much as the progression of them as people. If they're hungry and homeless education doesn't matter a jot. That needs sorting first. If they have anxiety they need to feel supported and safe. The list goes on and on. Through games, laughing and mucking about the barriers start to drop and we find out their real fears. Then we can start to support them as best we can. When we bump into old students who have successes to share we feel so proud of them and think - job done. The process of starting to like themselves has begun and off they go.
At the back of all this is the ever present stress of being employed sessionally. This means that at the end of every ten weeks I don't know if I'll have a job the next term. We have to search about for students to teach to keep the numbers up so we'll have a job. That along with funding constraints, other personal issues and all the paperwork that's expected in teaching nowadays and you get the other reasons I feel stressed this week. There are a lot of wishes I have, but I'm keeping them safe for now.
So - I've decided to press publish. What the hell. Behind all the creative home loving part of me there's a quite dsyfunctional, emotional and caring me who gets very angry about injustice and rules.
I keep calm with fabric and yarn.