After sharing my frustration and anger, knowing another complaint waited for me when I arrived at work yesterday, not sleeping, cortisol coursing through my body all night, and then enduring a very upset belly for most of the day, three things happened.
The final thing was me taking control of my stress by getting a woman pound it out of me via a massage yesterday afternoon. I could feel the angst surrendering – my body felt liberated when I left. And my mind was clear.
I often feel that maybe I just expect too much. I can’t change that; I’ve tried to no avail my entire functioning life. Calamity ensues when expectations and standards are compromised.
But also, sometimes, the universe ensures it acknowledges that you have been heard.
I was talking to our School Support Officers (beautiful ladies in the Office) and a parent rang for me. I felt stress immediately but took the all because I was in the Office surrounded by wonderful women.
It was the parent of a student who had continually had their technology out last week. I confiscated it after she had already received warnings, a formal caution and more reminders. I braced myself, and then this,
“I don’t know what has got into my daughter. I am so sorry for the extra work her behaviour has caused you. And the disrespect. I always tell her, that teacher is someone’s sister, mother, daughter, aunt. How dare you disrespect them. How would you feel if someone disrespected me?”
Gobsmacked, I gushed,
“What a great mum you are! Thank you so much …”
She disagreed. She said she was just doing her job, and again apologised. Needless to say, the respect I felt for this woman, and the gratitude. I wish I could shout her praises from the rooftop so that everyone knows who she is. Thank you!
And then, because the dominoes started clinking, at lunch break, a student I have had serious conflict with this week, the son of the parent complaint that I walked into yesterday morning, came to the door and asked to see me. I had attempted to call his mum as soon as I arrived at work and had psyched myself up for the impending barrage.
With trepidation, I went to the door. He told me he had been feeling sick about our conflict, that everyone has told him I was being stupid, and that he shouldn’t follow his instinct to resolve it with me. He is sixteen. I told him that I hadn’t slept and also feel sick about it.
We then spoke about our independent contexts leading to the death of the moth. And this exchange forced us to see the other person’s perspective. The murder of the moth was the catalyst for opposing contexts meeting. He also expressed his mum’s context; usually her advice would be to talk to the teacher and sort it out but she’s been sick this week. And after hearing her frustration on the phone yesterday, him feeling sick all night, he decided to come and talk.
I told him how much my respect for him had grown, and he said, “Mine for you too.”
And we are good.
He was going home to talk to mum.
What a difference a day makes.
I do love my job, without doubt. But I also know I want a different life as I speed through middle age. My plan to exit teaching stands. I might always stay part time once the business takes off and I might not if my business is very successful. I won’t regret teaching; I’ve met incredible people but I deserve a better quality of life ths teaching affords.
Thanks for reading.