MIA

When I was little, my younger sister, unable to pronounce my full name, would call me "Mia." The nickname made a recurrence in high school, amongst a select group of people. However, it also created some confusion. Printing MIA on the back of athletic shirts often prompted the mumbled, "Missing In Action?"

Lately, Mia has been MIA. Inservice started this week and, as they say, the "s**t hit the fan." I'm the unofficial mentor/go-to person for my new team teacher. Due to circumstances beyond her and my control, she hasn't had much time in the classroom, and she's feeling overwhelmed. She's looked to me for all the answers and I want to help her out, but it's meant (and will continue to mean) more work for me. As a result, now I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Then, today, I met the special ed inclusion teacher who will be in my classroom every afternoon (for almost 2 1/2 hours), accomodating the kids with IEPs. The idea is that we would co-teach to meet the needs of all the students. However, she's SOOOOOOO high strung that she makes me nervous just being near her. Not a good first impression. We'll see how it goes.

Somehow, I earned a reputation last year as a "very good teacher." Compliments are wonderful, but I feel under a lot of pressure to be something "great" as this year starts. Truth is, I think I'm just an average teacher and I don't do anything that my colleagues don't do. I'm uncomfortable on a pedestal because when/if you fall, it's a longer way down.

Tomorrow is a day full of meetings and then the first meeting of my second graduate class. Another item on a pile already stacked high.

Eventually, it levels out.

In the meantime, call me MIA.