Tell me, Dr. Freud,
is it normal for me to dream about teaching? Not only do I have to teach daily, then do homework, then plan, then grade papers, lather, rinse, repeat, I actually get to spend some of my nights dreaming about my students. I know–it sounds very tawdry, yet I’m just starting out with the age-old “hook.” When you’re down in it, trying to get your students to work, behave, learn, think, grow, whatever . . . it takes up a lot of time and energy. And, reality starts to work its way into dreamland. Ah, the beauty of teaching, or something along those lines.
The good–
sometimes the dreams aren’t so bad. They will feature a lesson that went well, or specific students who are amazing. Hey, lessons go well and students are awesome, so there.
The bad–
most of the dreams are bad. They are the reminder of the everyday failure, of the lessons that didn’t work (what? after 18 years I just don’t use the myriad of lessons that slayed?), or of the anxiety that comes in knowing that my efforts are not good enough for some. I’ll be out on the football field and we’ll be playing kickball–which starts out with promise and something I want to do–but we’ll only have one ball, kids will kick it somewhere, others will go get it, and my thought of bringing kids together to talk literature and/or philosophy and/or the human condition gets lost with me looking for the person looking for the ball while others huddle in groups and talk of sub-pop culture that ends up as a Youtube tutorial on cheer hair or disposable music.
It’s awful, I don’t like it, but at least I don’t have these dreams during summer.
Day 19 tomorrow. We’re going to forget about my 6th period not being quiet today because I was trying to teach them more Greek tragedy. If only Aristotle could have seen it. This is my catharsis, for they are young and do not know what they do.
As a teacher, you better have a short memory.