Last week, I brought clam chowder to my former colleagues at the elementary school where I used to work. Mixed feelings came up from being there, let me tell you.

Overall, people are still just as stressed as always. K-chan had a calm room with just a few students, but had work to finish. Her room is all about continuous, methodical work and the relentless futility of special education behavior management (and no, in special ed "relentless futility" is not contradictory in the least. Futility is the juggernaut of our nightmares).

The paraeducators were in good moods, but there seemed to no longer be much room for levity. This is more about management style differences. I was way too lax, so no matter what, another supervising teacher will seem too hard-ass.

Upstairs, things seemed pretty normal, which is to say, boring but busy. Again, relentlessness and not-quite-futility. It's a little better upstairs as the kids are more typical, though not entirely. They wouldn't be coming to that room if they didn't have a bit of an academic issue.

The stress level is ongoing. MM can't keep sacred even a half hour for her lunch. She never did make it to the room where the chowder was, so I brought some up to her before I left the building.

Before I decided to leave my career, after seven years and $60K of student loans I have no idea how I'll pay off, I would vascillate between several philosophies or thought processes:

- I would chastise myself for not being able to rise above how frustrated and petty I felt

- I would give up and slack off

- I would live in hope that the system would change, assisted by my tireless work toward the continuous improvement of my work and on behalf of the district

Guess what? Same shit, different year. It's amazing. The people I worked with are good, hard-working people. THey care, more than most would for that salary and those working conditions. They sacrifice their family time, their sanity, and their ability to financially support themselves, in order to pursue improvement in the lives of children. Hoorah.

But they are also stressed out, treading constantly that squirrel wheel that goes so fast they can't see a way to get off, even for a little while. There is no down time, without sacrificing job performance.

No additional help is forthcoming. The federal government doesn't fund the states, the states don't fund the districts, and the districts are still having bake sales to get what they need. It's amazing, and, at the most fundamental level, hasn't changed since I was a child. I grew up in the late 60s and early 70s and I clearly remember the posters that said:



I just wish, pray, and hope for my colleagues that there is peace in their lives, that they are getting something besides medical benefits out of working for the machine.

And, even though I remain scared about money and uncertain about how my new life will unfold, I am proud and grateful for having jumped off the cliff of that uncertainty. It's a head-clearing, very bubbly ride.

Somebody charge up my hoverboard. I'm going tricking.