I have no idea how I made to January. People talk about “blacktober,” but for me it was more like black October, November, and December.
I have a folder on my computer of all the NOT TEACHING jobs I was planning on applying to for next year. I get emails from an assortment of graduate programs from which I requested information.
I’ve visited DC twice (RIP college) and the first time it was pretty okay. I told some funny stories, mentioned some upsetting events that had gone down, but overall I was pretty upbeat – y’know until I had to leave.
Something flipped a switch on that plane ride. I don’t know what it was, or if I should be regretting going to DC or what, but I was really convinced that there was no way in hell I was supposed to be in South Carolina right now.
When I came back a month later, *everyone* I talked to heard a long speech from me about how I can quit after one year. They didn’t even have to bring up TFA. I would just leap into a lecture about how I was miserable but I was going to stick out the year and then move back to DC, etc.
I probably worried a lot of you, and I guess maybe I should have, I was pretty miserable. But this is because, I have learned, that the first year, specifically the first semester, of teaching is miserable. It is the worst. If you surveyed everyone in November asking if they were planning to do a second year, you’d get a resounding FUCK NO. (can you say fuck on the internet? sorry idk)
I don’t have any idea if it’s going to be better second semester, but like there’s no way it can be worse, right?