Don’t

Don’t snap

Don’t say it… you’re hurt, I know

Don’t open your mouth

Don’t panic, breathe slow

Don’t ask the question,

Don’t catch the eye

Hold back your words

And try not to cry

Stop up the tears,

Please, don’t speak out loud

Don’t say what you want to

Keep your head bowed

Maintain the silence

Stay quiet, keep the peace

It won’t be forever

These feelings will cease

Close up your doorway

And then your heart

Lock it up tightly

And try to restart

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Tearful Teaching

I’m tearful today. A tearful teacher who can’t decide who she’s letting down most. Is it the child who wants to work but has to wait until the classroom is less like a zoo to get the help they need? The child who can’t have you look at them as you explain a task, because you can’t afford to turn your back on half a dozen or so children who are ready to destroy any semblance of peace or learning?

Perhaps it’s the child who is doing the disrupting. Perhaps it’s that child the system lets down most, because that child is not being taught how to function in real society. That child has excuses made for them. That child can turn their rage or spite on anyone in their path and there is no real consequence. The child who can say, ‘My mum is going to stab you’ or can comment on your ‘fat rolls’ to your face and then laugh out loud, but still be allowed to attend your lesson the next day. That child is unlikely to thrive without any enforced boundaries.

But most likely the child I let down the most is the one who is there when I walk through my front door worn out, crying and just wanting to cry myself to sleep in a dark room. The child who brings his mum a cup of tea and gives her a hug, but can’t stop the tears that roll down her face.

The girl who cried

I knew a girl who cried a lot,

I often tried to make her stop

But couldn’t, for the hurt inside

Was much too great for her to hide.

She dreamed of things that never came

And to herself she dealt the blame,

For though she wished and wanted more

She couldn’t end the blasted war

That fought inside her head each day

And so she tried to hide away.

But there were folk who persevered

and helped to stem the flow of tears.

She learned to say her hurts out loud,

Began to speak with head unbowed,

Realised that she wouldn’t break

That her smile, so often fake,

Could be more regularly true

If from another point of view

She saw the world and all its might;

And from that day she learned to fight

Another day; She’s now at ease.

She feels no need to try to please

The masses who would bring her down,

Those who’d gladly let her drown.

No longer is she full of dread

While thinking of the days ahead.

 

 

 

My Heart Is Heavy

I think of you so many times every day.

Today is no different; you are there in my thoughts

And I wonder what you’re thinking of, and how you are.

I think about calling, but I know it isn’t best.

 

You want your space, and that is what you will have.

You need your time to think, and I understand.

This isn’t how you imagined ‘us’, is it? I must confess,

It isn’t how I imagined either. My heart is heavy.

 

My heart is heavy, and my mood is melancholic.

I’m thinking all the time about emotions, mine and yours,

And I’m wondering how things will resolve.

But today, I know I will be ok.

 

Today, I know I won’t shed tears. There have been too many

And the highs and lows have been crippling for too long.

I feel something today that I’ve not known for a while.

I feel my strength and something else. Is it resignation?

 

A belief that things will end up as they should, perhaps.

Your choices are yours, and they may not mirror mine,

But even then, I’ll be alright. My heart is heavy

And I am sad, but your choices are yours.

 

You see, I only want you if you are sure.

I want your hand in mine, and my head on your shoulder

But only if it is right for you.  I’ll let you go,

Because I want you back. My heart is heavy.

 

heart

Angels

angels

 

Today was the day for the angels to sing, she said;

All that I heard was white noise in my head.

Today was a day full of symbolic joy, she said,

How can I tell which are symbols misread?

Today is a day where the honesty storms in me,

Things long unsaid clatter forward for all to see,

Giving up hope that it all could be fantasy,

Breaking me down, adding insult to injury.

Today was the day for the angels to sing, she said;

All I can hear is your voice in my head.

Today is the day you will find where you fit, she said;

But all I discovered is tears left unshed.

All The Times I Cried…

What a week!

I am back at school, working like I’ve never worked before, and loving every single minute of it. I have trained, I have planned, I have taught, assessed, analysed, marked, praised, comforted, smiled, laughed and, yes, cried. I love my job, and am so glad to be doing what I get paid for again.

I am back in other ways too; I am not only a proud teacher but also a proud mum. I am so wonderfully in love with those children of mine; as someone else put it recently… I am indeed their biggest fan.

I have a son who is caring, sensitive and witty – he has grown so much in the last twelve months, in more ways than one. He towers over me now, at thirteen, and surprises me constantly with his insight into things around him. He is a perceptive lad, and brave enough to say the things he feels. He has me considering his words long after he has spoken them, and I see the admiral, incredible young man he is turning into before my eyes with a pride that makes my heart swell.

I have a daughter who is bright, bubbly and inventive – she is no longer a child, but a beautiful young lady, inside and out. She has dealt with so much recently, and has come out right on top. I am very proud of the 10 A*-B grades in GCSEs, but much more intensely proud of the open communication lines that are so often missing between parents and teenagers. I adore those conversations late at night, sat on my bedroom floor, when she talks to me about my day and hers, and asks my opinion on the matters close to her heart.

I have my faith back again. Faith in myself to do the right things, faith that there are wonderful people around me who deserve nothing less than the tears of gratitude I’ve been crying all night long. My friends, here and elsewhere, who have found the right words to say, and managed to convince me that my life is indeed something worth treasuring, also have me crying.

And one last thing. I have found a kind of love that I never expected to find again, and the courage to embrace it. I have found my way into the extraordinary world of wanting and needing, and desiring and missing. My heart is whole, and in the hands of another.

I am an ordinary girl, in an extraordinary world, full of joy and colour and sunshine.

The Sad Game?

I’m trying to play the Glad Game, just for you, because you tell me I have to. But I’m stuck.

Can I be glad that I’ve spent the day working, completed lesson plans and marked books? No… It reminds me that I spend too much time working, and that I’m spending my time doing insignificant things. Then I realise that I spend a lot of my time doing insignificant things, and I think about my children.

Usually my children give me a reason to be glad. Today, no such feeling… While I was out on Friday, trying to clear my head by taking a drive, my mother was wiping away my son’s tears because he called her instead of me. I spent yesterday with my boy trying to get him to talk about how he feels, but we got nowhere. He is down, and I can’t fix it. I can’t even work out why.

When I get to this point in the thought train I can go no further. All I can do is cry.