There hasn’t really been much to say of late. We’ve moved Grandpa into my parents’ house and helped get my cousins into the house. School is back in session until the end of the year. I am mentally burned out on thinking about school and yet I’m not done brooding about all the things that have happened. I still sense injustice somehow, that what was done to me was profoundly wrong, even if I may not have any chance to change that. I haven’t accepted it or decided to go away quietly.
There is this profound sadness in my department at work. Over half of us were given pink slips or let go. One of us is in the process of separating from his wife. My trials and tribulations have been well documented by everyone. It’s painful. We can’t talk about the future because no one knows where anyone will be. We can’t plan anything because the district has threatened to send people to any school, breaking up our cohesive unit. And I am left adrift. I don’t know what contribution I make. I don’t really want to say anything. I just don’t know how to give up being a teacher.