I just finished the grades, and I regret that I finished it before due time since I had enough time to analyze the data.
It’s so frustrating. As much as I would want to blame this all to myself, I couldn’t. It’s so hard to accept the bad result when I thought I had done my near best. So maybe, it’s not really the best I could do… But…
I never felt so bad. I just wanted to go back to the time when I decided to be a teacher. I wanted to remember that excitement whenever I would be entering a classroom. I wish I could return to the time when all I had in mind was to be the best teacher I could ever be. I don’t want to let go of that love…
And here I am, preparing for tomorrow. Preparing for a lesson that they’d just sweep off their minds.
I’m not even sure why I cry for them even when I know that they don’t care a bit. In less than four months, they will have another teacher. Sooner or later, they will forget about me.
Sometimes I would just want to take a leave, and rest for a while. But whenever I would lie down on my bed and think of them when I wouldn’t be going to school, I worry that they wouldn’t come the next day thinking that I would be absent again or that they’d be confused with whatever was taught to them.
It’s so ironic that I like how innocent a child’s mind is, but what I am really doing here is preparing them to be an adult.