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Monthly Stream of Consciousness Challenge for March.
You've walked in from work. You're burned out, and at the end of your wits. The job is taking its toll on your sleep, your relationship, your quality of life. By your window that fronts the city sits your typewriter and a blank page. You must write, because if you don't, the job will have all of you. Give it to us. Winner is decided by likes, and will receive a crisp $10.00
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ColeMarie in Stream of Consciousness

Did I Make a Difference? I’ll Never Know

They say it's never too late to start a new career, but I'm not so sure. A second act may not be in store for me. I'm stuck. It's not a new feeling. Inertia has plagued me for much of my life.

Being a teacher is a weird thing. We do it because... why do we do it? We care, that's definitely true. We wouldn't do it if we didn't, or if we hadn't at some point. But's hard to keep caring when it seems like no one else does.

Most days I come home feeling like I didn't do much. The to-do list never ends, and I rarely get the satisfaction of checking something off the list because the students and their needs come before everything. The to-do list can wait.

So what did I actually do today?

I listened to a young girl, who is normally happy and gives me book recommendations, tell me she was on the verge of a breakdown and that's why she'd been avoiding her work. She'd turn it in by the end of the day, she promised. I told her she needed to take care of herself. It's okay to shut down from time to time, as long as we come back. Maybe I made her feel better. Maybe I didn't. I'll likely never know.

I wrote a college recommendation letter for a student hoping to get into an Ivy League college. As easy as it would be to recycle a past letter, I started this from scratch and put my heart into it, recalling stories from the time he was in my class, hoping that if this letter actually is read by the people who matter, it will tip the scales in his favor. If history is any indication, I'll never know.

I gently encouraged a student to wake up and finish his work because if he doesn't, he'll fail my class and won't graduate. As I approached him the smell of weed became stronger until I felt I could get a contact high in his presence. I can't even blame him because I know what his life is like. He's spoken of gunshots in his neighborhood and bodies lying dead on the streets. He's lost cousins, uncles, friends. I don't begrudge him this habit that gets him through the day. I hope he'll make it out of this place and break the cycle. I'll never know.

I gave band-aids, advice, feedback, grades, tips, strategies, information, lessons, assignments, love, encouragement, my all.

I hope it'll make a difference. I'll never know.