depression and anxiety? my students get a break.
the teacher with disorders, though, gets more than she can take.
frustration's running high, 'cause i've got thousands of demands;
but criticize the system, and i'll get a reprimand.
“meet them where they’re learning,” but standardize the tests.
“every child is different,” but graded like the rest.
“no child left behind,” in a class of thirty-three.
we’re “racing to the top;” if we lose, it’s all on me.
differentiation; meeting high and low.
always being proper... everywhere i go.
scheduled 'til 3:30; stay at work 'til eight.
try to teach with love; i'm often met with hate.
meetings, staffings, lesson plans,
trainings, weekends, lending hands
both to kids and to the staff
time for leisure? that’s a laugh
some kids cheat; some don't care.
read a book? "that's not fair!"
my one plea: follow rules.
“i don’t care. it’s just school.”
we are people just like you
we’ve got stress and feelings too
only so much we can take
‘till our minds begin to break
more excuses, several lies
so much stress i start to cry
“suicidal! fix me now!”
don’t have training; don’t know how
fifty things i have to do
never go to sleep ‘til 2
overwhelmed and breathing fast
i can’t handle—i won’t last—
i cannot relax
the panic attacks
my sanity’s gone
the class must go on
they’ve never heard
these unsaid words
my eyes are clouds
they’re all so loud
patience gone
raging on:
“maybe this
isn’t bliss”
dead brain
joy drained
must run
i’m done
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
depression and anxiety? my students get a break.
the teacher with disorders, though, gets more than she can take.
frustration's running high, 'cause i've got thousands of demands;
but criticize the system, and i'll get a reprimand.
“meet them where they’re learning,” but standardize the tests.
“every child is different,” but graded like the rest.
“no child left behind,” in a class of thirty-three.
we’re “racing to the top;” if we lose, it’s all on me.
differentiation; meeting high and low.
always being proper... everywhere i go.
scheduled 'til 3:30; stay at work 'til eight.
try to teach with love; i'm often met with hate.
meetings, staffings, lesson plans,
trainings, weekends, lending hands
both to kids and to the staff
time for leisure? that’s a laugh
some kids cheat; some don't care.
read a book? "that's not fair!"
my one plea: follow rules.
“i don’t care. it’s just school.”
we are people just like you
we’ve got stress and feelings too
only so much we can take
‘till our minds begin to break
more excuses, several lies
so much stress i start to cry
“suicidal! fix me now!”
don’t have training; don’t know how
fifty things i have to do
never go to sleep ‘til 2
overwhelmed and breathing fast
i can’t handle—i won’t last—
i cannot relax
the panic attacks
my sanity’s gone
the class must go on
they’ve never heard
these unsaid words
my eyes are clouds
they’re all so loud
patience gone
raging on:
“maybe this
isn’t bliss”
dead brain
joy drained
must run
i’m done
Don't get me wrong, there are lots of wonderful things about teaching, and I'm glad that I do what I do. I have some phenomenal kids. But sometimes I feel like I'm going to collapse, combust, or both... and that's not all on my students. It's on the system, too.
