Monday, Monday…. can’t trust (myself) that day

I’m realizing that my mind plays tricks on itself…like clockwork, the same tricks every week. EVERY Friday- without fail- I delude myself into believing that next week will be GREAT! I stay late at school, grade student work, slap a half dozen new positive messages on the few remaining open inches of wall space, decide on yet another organizational system to ‘help things run a bit more smoothly,’ and go home high on Mr. Sketch marker fumes and optimism.

Next week… yeah!

Then Saturday comes… an overwhelming sense of entitlement washes over me as I roll out of bed a couple hours later than I do M-F. I am not doing ANY work today. I DESERVE this day off. Suddenly all of my brilliantly ambitious Friday afternoon ideas seem less urgent. I somehow believe that everything can be accomplished on Sunday. New seating charts! New grading systems! New discipline measures! New lessons! Grad assignments! SUNDAY!!! No problem. I’ve got allll day Sunday. Today is SATURDAY, and the world is my playground! So off I go to explore NYC and enjoy my day- usually with my fun, wonderful, infinitely supportive boyfriend.

Infinitely supportive? Why yes. Because when Sunday and its infinite to-do list strikes in all its horror, he is still with me, left to deal with a whole new person. He fell asleep with a happy, relaxed, fun-loving girlfriend, and woke up to a frazzled, disgruntled woman who resents everyone who doesn’t work 12 hours, 6 days/week. Watch out. I am admittedly unpleasant company on Sundays.

So I spend Sunday cranking out lessons and grad papers and grading assignments that force me to accept that my students aren’t learning a fraction of what I so desperately want them to. Then the self-doubt. Am I a bad teacher? Why aren’t they learning more? How is it possible that I still haven’t succeeded at making them want to learn? What’s wrong with me? I bet all the other first year teachers out there have made more progress than me. I suck. That’s the only explanation.

Then frustration and self ridicule. Then hyperactive work ethic to overcompensate. Ok. Fine. Maybe I’ve sort of sucked at getting them invested up to this point, but NOW I’m going to work even harder to make sure I have killer lessons that you’d have to be brain dead not to enjoy and learn from! So I work like a beast for several hours straight, stopping only to make manic comments to Infinitely Supportive, ranging from “I rule! This lesson is brilliant!” to “For the love of god, HOW is posting this annoying grad assignment taking me so long? Can you email the idiots who run this terrible site and tell them how to fix this?”

Productive. Progress. Good stuff. But not enough. The 6pm bell in my mind tolls. (I have a finely tuned internal clock.) This is the home stretch. Just three and a half hours until I’d ideally be in bed for a perfect eight hours of sleep to start my week strong, and I’m hungry, so that whole eating thing is going to cost me some time. Estimated number of hours of work remaining: 6. Sonofa!!! Ok. No new seating chart. No new grading system. No draft of a school wide detention plan. Just the essentials. Finish up the must-dos. Table the should dos.

I usually make it to bed around 10, but I tend not to sleep well on Sunday nights. When the alarm goes off at 5:30am, I groan with dread. I just CAN’T get up. I’m soooo tired! Infinitely Supportive gives me an encouraging hug and wishes me a great day, eager for me to get up so he can sprawl out and sleep diagonally for four more hours. Envy. Then shower.

My shower readies me for my day. It’s game time. As I make my way to work, I return to my Friday afternoon belief that it’s going to be a great week. I worked hard yesterday. I’ve got a small arsenal of solidly interesting lesson plans loaded up on my clipboard in my backpack. I’m ready for my great week now.

Monday wears on, and the passing of each class period deflates me a bit more. This doesn’t look, sound or feel like the beginnings of a great week. In fact. This blows. They’re not listening. They’re not doing the assignments. They’re still throwing paper balls. They’re still yelling. Still cursing. Still not learning half of what I’m trying to teach. Annoyed students who feel they are being overworked and inconvenienced by my instructions yell out, “Miss! It’s Monday! We shouldn’t haffta do no work!” Through their actions, the majority of my students communicate to me that they would prefer to be ignorant.

I go home sad and frustrated. Sad because MY students aren’t learning. MY students who I care deeply about, who I work very hard for, who I want the best for, who still do not show me the respect I should have earned months ago. Frustrated with their resistance. Frustrated with my emotional attachment to my work and my inability to follow everyone’s advice NOT to let it bring me down. Frustrated that I’ve tricked myself yet again into believing this week will be different. Frustrated that I don’t have an answer for friends and family who ask me why I thought so.

Monday, Monday…