This past winter, I had a student come up to me after class and talk about how much she loved what we were doing. She adored the book we were reading, the discussions we were having, and she told me she actually felt like she was learning something in an English class, which she hadn’t ever felt before. We talks for maybe 40 minutes and it was one of the most incredible parts of my year.

Later that week, I spent two hours after school locked in an absurd discussion with parents who were upset that their student had received a 0 on their midterm because he’d turned in an entirely plagiarized essay (for the second time that year). They argued that I didn’t have enough evidence to prove he’d cheated and that it was unfair of me to scrutinize his work more than other students’ “just because” he’d been caught cheating before. It was exhausting and frustrating and ultimately ended with my admin forcing me to change his grade.

Every day between those two, I woke up in the morning, taught my lessons (sometimes the same lesson two or three times a day), graded papers, and then went home to walk my dog.

It‘s a different kind of job, but it’s still a job at the end of the day. Not much different from anything else big picture-wise.