The highlight of my day today was having a second grader throw up all over the floor in the middle of class.
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. The real highlight of my day was packing up my bags and piling into my car to leave work. It wasn’t such a bad day. I mean, my kids frustrated me to no end, as if their lives were specifically oriented toward that singular goal. Several kids were sick and coughed and sneezed to Kingdom Come. (Maybe that’s for the best – sick kids means fewer kids at school, which means less insanity for me..?) And that one kid really did throw up all over the floor in the middle of class. I’ve never enjoyed cleaning up puke less than I did today. I shudder remembering it.
On top of everything else, there are a number of kids whose parents don’t like that their kids’ second grade teacher is a 23 year old philosophy major with no history in education. Being from out of state doesn’t help. These parents are the most passive aggressive bunch I’ve ever met. And I went to two high schools. Yeah.
It’s just hard to deal with everything, from a new job, to a new city, state, zipcode, to a field that I’ve no real grasp on, …everything. I don’t know how or why I got this job. I don’t know why I moved here. I don’t know these people. I don’t really have an apartment yet. My friends from back home and from school aren’t really talking to me, what with being busy with school starting again for them too. Honestly the hardest part is the bit where I’ve been living in a room of someone else’s waiting for my apartment to become available so that I can move in. I need to be in my own place. I need privacy. I need a home.
That’s the clincher in all of this. I feel home sick. I’m as close to home as I can be, what with having move 12 hours from the place I last called home, and 18 from the one before that. But I still have that feeling. That yearning. I don’t know what it’s for because there’s no physical place or anything else that has a real draw on me. There isn’t a real place that’s home.