A Day in the Life of a First-Year Teacher

Friday, October 11, 2013

When personal life tumbles, my kids (and roomies) are still the ones here for me

Last week, I left a relationship that sustained for over four years. She was my prom date back from senior year. (We went as friends.) and then we both parted ways, her to a pre-pharmacy program in Ohio and me to a psychology-secondary education/Spanish program at NYU. We got back together my junior year of college and have stayed together for the past 4+ years. Lately, differences have started to emerge that led to greater distance between the two of us, something neither of us anticipated. The pain of dealing with this distance and this fighting was too much and I decided that maybe it was best for me to leave. 

I'm 23-going-on-to-24, so this sudden change in my long-term relationship has been really devastating. The day I left the relationship due to those differences and my frustrations, I called a personal day from work. There's no way I could walk into my classroom at 7:40 in the morning and have the energy I needed to teach. I had a lesson plan written for that day but a substitute teacher could not possibly have taught a whole lesson to both classes and conducted the activities planned - so I wrote my students a letter explaining the situation (without too many details of course) and left a movie for them to watch, saying I would return tomorrow. 

Each of my roommates took the day off their own jobs, which is something I could never ask of them since they work corporate and/or private sector jobs. The act of doing so really reinforces how close my roommates and I are. If any of them were going through what I'm going through, I know I would do the same for them. We talked it out, went for some ice-cream therapy (well technically fro-yo...) and went for a jog together in Central Park. I felt so much better after I spent the day with my roommates and got my mind off of what was going on. I'm so thankful that I have roomies as great as mine. They say five's a crowd, but I honestly don't know if I would be back in my classroom right now if it weren't for them. Two of them went to the same high school as I did, one was from my graduating class and our newest roommate was a freshman when I was a senior. I owe them so much and the fact that they even took the time to do that really makes my eyes start to tear up.

Especially moving for me are the notes, letters and words that my students gave to me the day I returned. My desk was piled with "feel-better" and "I'm sorry" cards from my students, explaining to me how the sub read them my letter and that they understand that I'm going through a lot right now. I cried twice that day: once in my classroom that morning and once on the subway ride home. They say that it takes a true New Yorker to cry on the subway and after living the majority of my life here, this was my very first time I cried in a subway car with other people. But it doesn't matter. The simple fact that my students were there for me and helped me in my time of need really strengthened and accentuated the kinds of relationships that I build with my kids each year. I'm so thankful for them and even though they are only in 8th grade, those acts of kindness have made the whole recovery process a lot smoother. 

In the end, I'll be okay. I'm only 23 and I have plenty of time to get my "life sorted out". However, the support systems that I have (my friends, family, roomies, students, principal, colleagues, former teachers, former professors, current professors, parents of kids I tutor, the kids I tutor, my former counselor...) and everyone who has been there for me EVER are relationships that I've worked so long to build and can never lose. 

Thank you to everyone who has helped me get through this. I promise that I'll be back to my normal self soon. 

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