Making sense

Anne Lamott, on writing ...

"We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out.”

Sunday, July 6, 2008

The teaching nightmares have begun

Uh oh. They're here, the dreams.
Oh, they start out all right: I'm standing at the head of the classroom, wearing my best suit and most confident smile. The students, lined up neatly in rows, smile warmly at me in return. Hands are positioned Catholic-school style on the tops of desks. Everything is right with the world. I turn to write my name on the board and then ...
.... suddenly the room grows three times in size; the children, who are now out of their chairs, scramble helter-skelter throughout the gigantic room. They're chasing each other. A desk is tipped over. Swooosh, Bang! A chair flies past my head and leaves a huge gouge in the chalkboard. Curse words pepper the air. It's snowing paper balls. I try to get the class under control. "Children, children!! Sit down!!! Please." I shrink in stature; the students grow large, larger ... . Total mayhem ensues. I start to cry and pound my arms at my sides. I work my mouth, trying to find something to say. No words come out. I am now a sobbing, miserable mute.
It's a terrible scene. Something out of a Roald Dahl children's book.
I awaken; the hair on my neck is wet. I look at the clock: 3:24 a.m. Remind myself of the date. Calm down by imagining I'm at the beach. Remind myself of the date again.
It's only the first of July, Kate.
For Pete's sake .. get a grip!

2 comments:

Gina said...

Thanks for finding me! I look forward to reading more of your posts. So entertaining! Oh and p.s. I have cat snot on my window--wanna come Windex it? :)

Bee said...

I've had this nightmare, too. I used to have waitressing nightmares as well.