So, THIS is what 44 feels like (or 36000 mg Paxil)

happy post birthday to me! One day into 44 and I feel pretty good about it.
That's lucky, because that's about all I'm feeling good about.

Home yesterday and today, taking some sick time because, well, I'm pretty sick. I need some time off to get a little or a lot of perspective. Nice to have this to write out my feelings.

This week, Wednesday, I had a meltdown and was remarkably unprofessional. Maybe I was right, probably not, but it's made me wonder what's going on.
Last year, I sent a kid to the office for not having a pencil for class. Really.
And that's been bothering me for a while now- is that who I have become? Apparently.

Wednesday, I called a counselor and asked if I could talk to her about a student who was dropping my class (present tense, but in fact he had already dropped the class- my input not required- so past tense would have been more correct). I asked if we could talk about student x and her reply was succinct and to the point, "No. It doesn't matter."

My opinion doesn't matter.

Since I tend to take things and run with them (it's my signature move, unfortunately), I went ballistic. "Really? My opinion about a student doesn't matter?" Then I used, well, unfortunate words that basically boiled down to this: When my opinion doesn't count, I wonder why I'm here.

And I do wonder why I'm here.

Am I here to send kids to the office for silly reasons? Am I here to care about kids and their well being? I'm just not sure.

For years now, I've been true believer- kids matter, the work is important, we're all in this together. I'm on campus from 8 AM to pretty late at night, teaching, then shooting the games, then editing the images and posting them on the web for parents/kids to look at, download, etc.
I also maintain the school web site, built programs that manage the tardies/detentions, the school calendar, the testing systems etc. Happy to help; if a computer application can save time, then I'm happy to spend some time writing it. If I spend 40 hours making something and it saves someone 80 hours, then that's great.

But it does come with a cost, and the cost is just a little too high.

Caring about kids is, well, painful. They can have complicated, awful lives (or excellent, happy lives, or somewhere in between). Paying attention to kids, noticing them, wondering and worrying about them, takes time and energy. I'd like to think I do it because I choose too, but that's naive.

I'm built to care; I can't seem to turn it off.

Now, caring is too painful. My concern isn't important, relevant, required, asked for, valued, or even listened to. That's the way of things, or the new way of things. When I ask at my school site, "why don't counselors want teacher input?" I'm met with blank stares.

Of course, I'm told teachers ARE important, valued, etc. And then we're ignored. Actions do speak loudly.

My solution? 36000 milligrams of Paxil.

Not all at once! But, 20 milligrams of Paxil a day, 180 days is 3600 milligrams a year. Ten years until retirement? 3600 mg multiplied by ten years means 36000 mg, and then I'm done!

I need the job, the health care, the retirement package. I can't keep going the direction I've been going; I need to find a way protect myself. It's not a perfect solution, but the one I can see in front of me.

Thoughts?