Little did I know how difficult my new profession would be. My school was challenging for a number of reasons. The students came from a wide assortment of backgrounds and the administrative requirements were, well, monumental would be a polite way to put things. Mom said that I learned to teach by getting thrown not the deep end of the pool. I had a panic attack on the first day of school. Think about it. When you get a job waiting tables, you shadow someone for a few days, then they shadow you for a few days, then you are finally given your own station. When I got my job I was assigned a classroom, issued textbooks and the bell rang! While I was trying to get my bearings, was also taking my pedagogy classes and trying to adjust to being a single mom. I cried every day that first year. On my way to work. On my way home from work. When I went to bed.
For 10 years, Mark was the last person I spoke with before I went to bed. I had been talking to him every day. He was my partner, my best friend, and the person I planned to spend the rest of my life with. If you look back 2 posts and four years ago, you will see that I thought that we might work things out. Sometimes my naïveté frightens me. Truly, I should not be allowed to cross the street without assistance! I called him every day (sobbing most of the time) because what is more attractive than a snot-faced stalker? It took longer than I like to admit before I realized that he didn't want to be there for me. Those first few weeks, I found myself starting to call him over and over and over again. I had to admit that I no longer had my best friend and partner.