Teachers should be Gajillionaires

I must say I've worked harder in the past two weeks than any effort I can clearly remember, although perhaps my memory is being replaced with the methodical plunking on the keyboard of lesson plans, which is the ouija board of my future. The actual school part is a whirlwind of madness; I'm throwing out all my education and resorting to any tactic possible to restore even a sliver of control, to find a needle in the mountains of paperwork, and every now and then, it works. And even though I dream constantly of school, like about a giant pencil sharpener solving all of our problems, I awake to find real, grinning teachers telling me the first year is always the hardest. I pleasantly thank them and wonder what in the world was I thinking? But after two weeks of really hard days, I'm finding that I'm actually growing to like the kids. This positive connection is quite contrary to what I thought possible in those first days which felt like light years, and I'm half dreading and half curious to see what the third week will bring.