Oh, something is wrong with my hormones or something...not to use such an easy excuse.

But this morning I am very much on the verge of a full-blown preschool-like tantrum and I can't think of a major reason. I did spend the last half an hour with an administrator as she spoke to me like I was borderline retarded, but I am used to that. But just moments ago, the computer took more than a split second to load and I banged my fist against the desk in the school library and felt like my head would explode if I didn't scream. I didn't and it didn't, but just to be safe I have sequestered myself in the under-used computer lab.

And last night, while watching the final episode of "Friends", I saw the commercial for the final episode of "Frasier" and I started to sob as if my heart was breaking. I seriously had a moment of feeling like some very close friends were leaving me and I felt completely abandoned and empty. Then I quickly remembered that I haven't watched either of those shows regularly in years, if ever, and with much embarrassment, put myself to bed after gulping unrecommended amounts of Tylenol PM. This is almost a week now of taking my over the counter lithium every night.

Call it stress. Call it life change. It is driving me nuts. Other teachers-- are you all having nervous breakdowns, too? It would be comforting to me to find out that the way I feel is typical teacher feelings. This first year teacher is coming apart at the seams.  ¶ 8:46 AM

  The night before last, I dreamed that I was in a lab coat in front of a scienc-y like table. On the table were various human body parts...including human that was ground up like beef. Ew. Not pleasant.

Last night, I dreamed that I was in my cute little car with a very obese woman whom I didn't recognize...although I get this weird feeling that I actually once knew her-- maybe in childhood in one of those people that I don't remember remembering. I just think I might have known her because I had this seething resentment toward her and I distinctly remember that in the dream I felt she owed me an apology. Anyway, we were at a racetrack and somehow I ended up on the racetrack. There were no other cars, so it wasn't dangerous in that way, but I was trying not to go fast around this thing because there were ruts in the track and I kept sliding. To my relief, I saw an exit, so I sped up and took it. Unfortunately, it was a cliff. As the woman and I saw the ground speeding toward us, I grabbed her hand and whispered, "Lord, hold us and keep us" and then we crashed.

Not being a religious person, I found it fascinating that I whispered that...although that is something that I still think when I am scared-- kind of a hold over from a Catholic upbringing and a general feeling that it maybe couldn't hurt to ask something or someone for help when I need it.

What does all this death in my dreams mean? I know that I am a bit stressed out over summer plans. I have been hired to work at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival this summer and I think I am going to do it. I also have to get to the Bay once in June and then again in July. I have to figure out a way to afford all of this jet-setting. I have to figure out where to put my car, my stuff, etc.

I also find that I am weirdly annoyed with my students this week. I feel good about school when I wake up, when I drive here, when I am preparing for the day. But the moment they walk through the door my mood plummets. It isn't like the old days, when I hated them. It is more like a deep annoyance, such as a mother might feel for her children. I love them, but I just wish they would go away for awhile. I don't like this feeling because the end is near and I would hate for their last memories of me to be of my yelling, "Just sit down!" to no one in particular while shielding my eyes with my hands.  ¶ 7:28 AM

  I just saw something that reminded me very clearly why middle school is such a nightmare.

"Hey, John..." I hear a boy say to another boy as I am passing a group of boys in the hallway right after last bell. "Do you like tater-tots?"

Now, this question would seem harmless enough...but I know-- and from the terror that John is exhibiting, it would seem he knows-- that the question is not literal. The questioner is with about four other boys and John is backing slowly up against the lockers. I pause because, as a teacher, it is now my job to stop "bullying". This is more difficult than it seems. In movies, "bullying" is pretty simple. It is a big thug in a leather jacket slamming a skinny youngster up against the wall shouting, "Give me your lunch money, Punk!"

But in poor John's case, I am afraid that bullying may possibly be being asked if he likes tater-tots by five boys who look a bit younger than him. The only way you can kind of tell that the question is not about tater-tots is the loaded silence of the questioner after the question and the fact that all five of the boys watching have giant, evil grins spread across their faces.

John froze and searched his questioners face for a clue. I could tell that he didn't know what "liking tater-tots" meant. Nor did I. I could see him racking his brain. Did it mean oral sex with other boys? Did it mean eating poop? He looked panicked, but was silent, trying to disappear.

The questioner looked behind him and saw me waiting there. I could see him deciding whether or not to give up the question, but in the end he must have figured that he couldn't really get in trouble for asking someone if they liked eating fried potatoes. "Well, do you? It is a simple question."

John looked at me imploringly. He needed saving.

"You boys move along. Bell rang." I finally said, arms crossed against my chest and frowning slightly to let them know I knew they were being bad.

"He does like tater-tots. We know that anyway." The questioner smiled triumphantly as the other boys howled with laughter. They were right. Because they were doing what I asked and leaving, I couldn't punish them for asking John that question. All of us in that hallway knew that there was teasing going on, but it would be impossible to punish.

John didn't meet my eye as he got the rest of his stuff from his locker. His cheeks were on fire.

"Have a good day." I told him quietly as he walked away. I wanted to give him a hug and tell him that the world is a lot less cruel after 13.

"Thank you, Ma'am." He mumbled and pushed his way through the hallway.  ¶ 2:59 PM