There were three more class periods before lunchtime—three groups of students filing in and out at the sound of the bell. Lena told them all to work in their workbooks. She sat in her desk chair, trying to seem busy. Choosing words and saying them aloud seemed like a responsibility for which she was no longer suited. Why had she ever wanted to become a teacher? Why had she chosen a job that wedged her so tightly into the chain of cause and effect that when she made a wrong move, the dominos never stopped falling? She wanted to lie down forever, cover her face in a room full of silence.
Some days are like this. We argue with a student, we have a tough class, and we feel like a failure at what we have devoted our lives to. So we wallow for a day and then try to make tomorrow better.
