My Sanity Stolen Right Out From Under Me

Twenty minutes before school the principal calls me down to say they're rearranging the schedule after losing a teacher and I am going to wind up teaching all sixth grade classes. I pouted of course, because my eighth graders have been my saving grace. My stars, my solace... the ledge to which my sanity desperately clings throughout the school day. But of course, I do as I'm told.

What he neglected to mention was just when this darling little change would occur. So, ten minutes into second period, after I had just mentioned that I was probably going to lose them (they were pouting too), in walks the principal telling everyone to get up and line up in the hallway; twenty-odd sixth-graders were waiting behind him.

I put on my super-serious-face (covering up an about-to-panic-and-cry-face) and set them to work on coloring glyphs. I kept extending the time so I could scramble together SOMETHING productive to do with these kids, one week before the first bouts of required school-wide tests.

I am mildly heartbroken and thoroughly overwhelmed.

No one said that this would be easy... but somehow I still didn't expect it to be this not-easy.

Onto grades.