I love my job. I mean, absolutely, totally, passionately love my job. Believe me, I know how lucky that makes me, because I know so many people who get up, go to work, and hate what they do.
The very thought of such an existence would make me want to slit my wrists.
Today, even though I took a sick day because Monster #1 wasn't feeling well, was one of those days when I really love my job.
See, last week, I gave back the most horrific set of essays you've ever seen. It wasn't that my kids don't know how to write -- they do. I guess, as one of them so eloquently put it, "everything we learned leaked out of our brains over the summer."
Anyway, no one was happy last week -- not me, not my students, not my administrators, not the parents.
Paper #2 is due Friday. We've been working hard to stuff some of that leaked-out knowledge back into their brains before then.
So I went by the school this afternoon to meet with a handful of students who wanted feedback on their rough drafts. Revised rough drafts. With notes on them. I was thrilled. Then, when I started reading the rough drafts?
Color me tickled pink.
The rough drafts I read today are loads better than the final drafts from last week. They're learning. They're improving.
How can a teacher not love that? And how could I ask for a better job?