Tuesday – Saxophone lesson day. My son, not me. I have come to relish this quiet time in my car. My son takes private saxophone lessons, which are held at the instructor’s home, and I get 30 minutes of quiet time. So often, I plan to grade papers, or catch up on emails, but usually end up scrolling social media.
Today though, besides writing this slice, I am reflecting. I am wondering how today could have gone better for me and my third graders. It has been a difficult year. I have two especially difficult students among my 23, and now others, who before were “fine”, are joining in the chaos that seems to be the norm now. Even my “good kids” weren’t so good today.
When hubby asked how my day was today, I replied, “It wasn’t horrible,” I say. “Well, that’s good, right?” he questioned. I am sure he is hesitant to ask each day how things went, but he still does. More often than not, I break down in tears when he asks. I really try to leave it all behind by the time I walk in the door at home, but it’s not so easy.
So today… I sit in the car and reflect. My raised voice echoing through my own head, flashes of the “good kids'” sad (disappointed? frustrated?) faces. This hurts my heart.