Watching a particularly moving episode of House tonight, I was struck by my own failure. I have been working really hard this year. Granted, I have a tough class. Granted, parents of all shapes and sizes have been up my ass. But it is my response to these stimuli that has been so interesting. I realized tonight, mid-House, that I have been over compensating. I have been over stretching my self in an attempt. . . I think. . . . to have some control. To make sure that my class is as perfect as I can get them, in an attempt to prove I am good teacher even though I am pregnant. And it goes on and on . . . with work and colleagues and such.
All of this is wearing me out, and it took me a while to get the correlation. I shared this new bit of info with S, and I told him, that since I seem to need to have this measure of control in all I do, where else it may sneak off to if I let my school control go.
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