The Year I Lost my Mind

Looking at this year retrospectively in my language arts free write:

The alarm clock always seemed to buzz too soon.
The sun was even too tired to rise.
Oatmeal was burnt because my mind was too full to recall that it needed water.
Hours were spent hoping, dreaming, and praying.
Will I make it through today?
Will I lose my mind in the process?
Novels were neglected and friends had to be penciled in.
Free time had to be scheduled.
While my planner was neat, I grew to hate the clock.
Why must I run from here to there? Why can't I travel? Why don't I have time to exercise?
My mind wanted to rest, to know the to-do list has been finished.

Like eating a bowl of berries I wanted to savor each moment because soon the season would change.
I knew that someday I would look upon this time and miss the moments of stress, of adventure, of trying to figure out who I was and will be.
O to stop and take in the breath of the first hints of autumn, to glance across the field at the sunset gracing the horizon.
Funny at the moment , I didn't have a spare second to appreciate the journey.
I think that was the year I got my first wrinkle to think they've only multiplied.

Every time I thought I had lost my mind it came floating back about the time the sun returned its place in the sky.

Overwhelmed

Today I was struck by how little I really know about life. Yes, I want to change the world, but how much do I really know of a struggling world. I never fully grasped how much home life really affects how students perform in the classroom. I find myself in this constant turmoil and struggle. As a student teacher, learning to be a real teacher someday, what is my role? Is my job to be compassionate? Is my job to make sure students meet all the standards? One of my students today mentioned that she's living on the streets, I was completely caught off guard. Oddly enough I had been brought to pray for her earlier. It seems God knew that she needed the prayer. I know nothing about being homeless or living on the streets. I know nothing about coming from a divorced-parent home. Yes, I have had my own struggles in life, but none seem to compare with the struggles my students face every day. I feel like there is such a responsibility in being a teacher, the responsibility to make sure my students feel loved, to be there to listen, and provide kleenex for their tears. I thought I had become callused to the brokenness in this world, but I find my heart breaking daily. I feel so inept, but I know God is faithful. I want to make a difference in this world . . . to leave footprints in the sand.