I sit here on a Friday afternoon. I am home. I have been home for two weeks now on break from my job as a preschool teacher. When I go back, it will be a shit show. Two children leaving this month and a placemat needed for both of them. Pressure to get all things done. Pressure I do not need. An assistant who does not do shit. An assistant who will clean, big fucking deal. But won’t help with pictures or any of the other things that have to be done. Prep for the day, nope, does not do it. Spends her time talking and chatting and then I am left with holding the bag to it all. I do not look forward to going back to this place of employment.
Still, thinking about starting over somewhere else does not appeal to me either. It makes me incredibly sad. It makes me feel like I am a failure and that I have no place in this world. What is the point of it all? To make a difference? To who? The children will have a teacher either way. What makes me so special? I am just like everyone else. Everyone else just in it for whatever reason. To me, it is my way to give back. To provide a place for a child to be a child. But when 8,000 things are expected to be offered, it takes away the joy of being in the moment and makes it feel like I am forcing the children to be exposed to all the things rather than to just be and discover on thier own. It is not play based. It is teacher initiated. Teacher provided, initiated work. Play comes from time to explore, not forced upon items hailing the title “science, or art or whatever.” The joy of discovery is lost when there are too many things to choose from. Not enough time to just explore one thing. No, it has to be more, offer more, be more, do more. Do more, that is it. The preschool that is called the place to be. What a crock of shit.
A teacher, complaining and throwing another preschool under the bus for their lack of enthusiasm in a performance. I do not get it. I do not want to be part of it. It is all too much. Too much competition. Too much one up you crap and drama. I do not care for it. What is the point of it all? It is not to be the best for the children, it is to look the best for the parents and community. It is not my philosophy. It is not play based. It makes me not want to be there or associate. It is why I spend my break in my car. Away from it all. I am very much ashamed of the fact that I work there. It is not what it appears to be. I am not one of them. I do not need the prestige of it all. I do not care if the parents are impressed by me, how I look, or anything. All that should matter is that their child looks at me with trust and hope. They should feel safe and be able to relax while at school. They should feel the energy of calm and peace. Not stress and chaos. It is not okay. I am not okay.
Pressure to perform, is what it comes down to. Pressure to perform. No one will say it but it is what it is. It is as thick as it can be. Fake hair, fake makeup, fake smiles. Backstabbing people. A pastor who is over them all and does not reach out. A pastor who calls his own wife, a trophy wife. And she goes along with it. A trophy wife leads the preschool. I guess in some world very foreign to me, that is a good thing. I will take my second hand clothes and take them somewhere else. It is not worth it to be associated with these people. Non caring, all about money people. Knowing I am alone and do not say anything. I will stop sharing. You really did not want to know anyways. I am not a charity case. I am a damn good teacher and you will learn a lot about who I was when I am gone. I will find my place. I will find my point. It may take me years, but I will find my place. I am determined. I will deal with you as I must right now to pay my rent and bills. But it will not be for long. I have learned so much about who I am from you. I am not shallow and uncaring. I do not just give the blanket answer of I will pray for you. I am not that person. Nor do I ever want to be. The children I serve are beyond blessed by my teaching. I will not bow down to less than what I know is best for these children.
Quiet Intensity 