It's taken me a while to start writing about teaching, because it's taken me a while to even begin to process the world I have immersed myself in. Truthfully, it's extraordinarily rough. One of Sharona's friends made some comment about what I am doing now being really "cool." Actually, I can positively say that "cool" is the one word I would not use to describe what I am doing. I would not want to be anywhere else (at least I recognize this sentiment right now), but it's not cool. Young boys trying to be big, bad boys telling me to get out of their face as their morning greeting is not cool. Young boys about to lose it and already swinging their fists back to hit me is not cool. Young boys going up to young girls to molest them is not cool. Young boys who are *sooo* sweet but have not learned to what to do with their anger (and, truthfully, they have a lot to be legitimately angry about) is not cool. Young girls more concerned with flirting with the boy next to them than the opportunities that an education will provide is not cool. Young girls trying to impress the boy next to them by showing blatant disrespect is not cool. Being legally unable to discuss sex with my young girls or young boys is not cool.

What's frustrating is that I know so many of you will read the list I just wrote and still you will romanticize it. It's not romantic, and it's not cool. There are some very sweet "teacher" moments, but a lot of what I do feels more like surviving. I love my students, and I want the absolute best for them, and I think about them non-stop. But I haven't always figured out how to provide an excellent education. The only thing I know is that I won't give up. Maybe if there are just enough of us in their lives acting as these cheerleaders, they'll make it alright. Yet, sometimes, I'm terrified. I can't let my kids know it, but I don't always feel like I'm in control of my classroom at all. When a young boy throws a table across the room, I feel positively out of control. Yet, each day I find it less likely that yesterday's misbehavior will repeat itself. Maybe that's really what classroom management looks like--just learning to lessen yesterday's problems until there have been enough "yesterdays" to actually push learning ahead.

So tomorrow begins another week, and I hope and pray it's better than this last week. I need and appreciate all of your prayers. I am doing the positively most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I just want my kids to learn.