Last year, I took off a year from teaching to learn the ropes of copywriting. With that, I fully intended not to return to the profession. I was burned out. Had it.

But then something unexpected happened.

I was called by the middle school principal over the summer and asked if I’d take a Reading position. That interested me because I always thought a Reading position would be great. I was excited…for a moment…only a moment because he dropped a bomb and revealed it was Special Education’s Reading classes. I cringed at the thought of teaching Special Education another year.

After a couple of days of mulling it over, I decided to take the position for two reasons. #1 the money, and #2, a chance to work with Mr. Cunningham. I desperately wanted to stay out of Special Ed because of the mountain of paperwork the government makes us do on IEP’s. It’s ugly. Makes being a Special Ed teacher extremely hard and unattractive, so it was a hard decision.

During my yearlong reprieve, it was delightful not do lesson plans, grading, work long hours, teaching every day, having all day interactions, and last, but not least, the piles of special ed paperwork. All this is tiresome, but more than that, the emotional part of teaching leaves one teacher tired. Bone tired.

The all-day conversations you have with students that need to say something to you. Sometimes good things. Sometimes not so good things. Some of them carry the world on their shoulders, and as a teacher you want to tell them everything will be alright even though you aren’t sure yourself, and you want them to believe it so they will quit worrying about things they can’t control.

I carry burdens, too. Silently, though. I worry about the student who was taken from their home. I worry about the student who can’t think because of too much noise in their head. I worry about why their shoes don’t fit but still have to wear them. And then there are those explosive or depressed students who live in bad environments, or those who have grandparents raising them because parents are not fit to.

All teachers are like this, though, I think.

I didn’t start out teaching to make a difference, as some teachers will announce. I knew I was pretty good at it so thought it would make a good career. But fear some days, it was a wrong choice for my personality. I carry too much home with me. Eight years into teaching and I can’t seem to leave all my cares at school, leave it to sleep peacefully at night.

What’s wrong with me, I wonder. I wonder if the next day’s behaviors will be manageable or will I lose control of the classroom. Behaviors make my heart palpitate. I don’t know why really because I can get help immediately, if needed. But it is the thought of who will do what and will someone get hurt.

Since it’s Special Education, we’re a classroom full of disorders and some behaviors are inevitable. This is something I don’t think the government thought about when they formed Special Education. Yeah, let’s put a bunch of kids together with disorders in the same room and try to get their attention off of each other and onto the board to fill in all the gaps they’re missing. SUURRE! That’ll work!

I got a new student recently. He’s been at the middle school for a couple of weeks when we found out he was on an IEP. I had already observed him in the halls and had a feeling just by the way he acted he would be joining us. My on-the-job training helps me spot them easily.

When he transferred in and wasn’t scheduled to be in my room, I thought I must have been wrong this time…but, I wasn’t. Being from a different state, it took a while for his IEP to show up in our program and then, suddenly, it’s another seat added, extra copies to make, and another one to teach how my classroom runs. No clowns in my classroom so don’t even think about it!

I get discouraged when new students come because it’s another IEP and it also changes the dynamics of our class. We get into a routine, and I don’t really like change. When someone else comes to live with us, it distorts our atmosphere for a while. Possibly the whole year depending on how the behavior is.

Not always, though. A student transferred to our school in early October, and he fit in nicely. Quiet, respectful, and works hard. Still mounds of IEP paperwork but when the child isn’t a show-off or disrespectful, it’s a big blessing.

At times, being an educator can be fun, especially if you’re in your sweet spot, teaching something you love in a building ran tight. It can be pretty cool.

Personally, I love working in a clean classroom with windows, where the staff gets along, and the district fixes all the broken things right away, and there are fairly new desks for the students, and have a teacher’s desk that isn’t in its seemingly fourth decade, and textbooks that aren’t twenty-something-years old.

I am going way overboard on the expectations here, I know. Some of this is never going to happen. Things stay broke forever, the desks are ancient, and the textbooks need to be burned and replaced with new ones. Hey, it’s reality.

But I will say I’m lucky. The staff I work with is top notch and for that I am grateful, and can overlook the rest…as best I can, anyway.

So, to all new teachers out there; hear me. Every day is different, every child is different. Be flexible, be in charge, have fun every once in a while, and you’ll be okay. Vent to those you can trust, then breathe.