entry five

 Wednesday 3/5/25 

Today is Wednesday—the halfway point of the week. But instead of feeling relief that we’re getting closer to the weekend, I just feel drained. It’s spring, and the students are getting more restless by the day. Their energy is endless, but their ability to follow even the simplest directions is almost nonexistent. I find myself repeating instructions over and over, and still, I’m met with blank stares or distractions. It’s exhausting. Even activities that would normally keep them engaged seem to lose their effect after a few minutes. It’s as if their minds are already outside, running in the sunshine, while I’m inside trying to corral their attention. I must keep it together—if I let my frustration show too much, the whole classroom will unravel. I have to be the calm in their chaos, even when I feel like screaming into a pillow. 

Burnout showed up in my professional life today in the form of frustration and fatigue. Even though I had a decent lunch, by the afternoon, I was ready for a nap. The exhaustion I am experiencing is more than just physical—it’s mental. My patience wore thin as I redirected students for the tenth time in a single lesson. And on top of that, my other group had to take yet another test today, after sitting through a long one earlier. It feels like all we do is test, test, test. I know they’re tired of it. So am I. Ugh. Watching them struggle through another round of questions they barely understand, I felt a pang of guilt. I know testing is required, but is it really helping them learn? They need to pass this test to cross the stage come June. Right now, it feels like the pressure to perform is outweighing the actual learning, and I worry about what that means for them—and for me. 

In my personal life, burnout showed up when I got home and realized I had no energy left for anything else. The thought of cooking dinner or even having a conversation felt overwhelming. I wanted to just sit in silence, but even then, my mind wouldn’t stop racing about tomorrow’s to-do list. There’s always something else that needs to be done, always another responsibility waiting. 

To manage my burnout today, I practiced some deep breathing exercises I have learned during my therapy sessions and reminded myself that I can only do so much. I also let myself have a small moment of joy—watching a funny video before tackling the next task. It wasn’t much, but it helped. I tried to remind myself that I’m doing the best I can, even if it doesn’t always feel like enough. Still, I know this exhaustion isn’t going away anytime soon. The week isn’t over yet, and I’m already running on empty. 

 

Spring Fever 

The walls can barely hold them.   

Feet stomp, chairs tip, voices clash—   

a whirlwind of restless energy,   

spinning faster than I can catch.   

 

Hands that should be writing,   

instead pushing, grabbing, throwing.   

Desks become drums, pencils become swords,   

and the room sways on the edge of chaos.   

 

“Sit down.”   

“Hands off.”   

“Eyes on me.”   

Words lost in the roar of springtime rebellion.   

 

One student bolts out the door.   

Another pounds fists on a desk.   

Laughter sharpens into defiance,   

rules snap like brittle twigs.   

The sunshine mocks me, spilling through the windows,   

beckoning them outside, away from this cage.   

They don’t want to be here.   

And honestly—   

right now, neither do I.   

 

I guide students back, step by step, 
through the restlessness and the noise, 
to a moment of calm. 

No matter how wild the storm, 

I have to be the anchor 

even as I am being pulled under. 
Students begin to settle—somewhat— 
and I, too, begin to breathe. 

Spring will come, 
but for now, we’ll ride the storm together, 
finding small victories in the chaos. 
One task at a time.