fits and starts

is my new favorite phrase. I've been using it to describe how starting the school year has been going. "Oh, you know. It's really hard to figure out how it's going; with all the Jewish holidays it's been a thing of fits and starts." I always manage to quote Stanley Kunitz's The Dragonfly - coincidentally my favorite poem. We're in our 5th week of classes (oh my god) and it feels like we haven't really started. Like it's all been a prologue until now. And this week, too, we have Thursday off, and then go back on Friday. It's frustrating, especially because I really need to find a groove, to get a firm handle on things, start figure out what I'm doing, and how to do it. We're out of the honeymoon period with the kids, and yet we have no momentum. There's no traction, just friction.

Today, especially, felt symptonic of the stop-and-start nature of the last few weeks. I made a girl cry today. A 6th grader. One of mine. It's a long story, and involves anagrams of my name (Jell-o, if you add an extra "L"), a boy putting chips in another girl's hair, asserting yourself when someone butts their nose into your business, and the way this girl I made cry - let's call her Carly - has been viewing and talking to me the last week and a half. I thought Carly and I were having a really good, open, productive discussion about communication and how to apologize, and I was really proud of myself because I got to put some of the techniques and phrasings that I've been reading about into practice. As we shook hands after our conversation (no hugging!) I felt like this was a breakthrough for me and my comfortability in dealing with crises.

And then another 6th grader runs over and tells me Carly is crying. Because of me.

The other teacher on the yard said I did exactly what I was supposed to do, and that every kid takes things differently. And some kids use crying as a manipulative tool. And some kids are just criers. They cry. But still, it's a shitty feeling right now. I didn't fuck up, but I didn't do as well as I could have. And there was no way to know that in the moment. But now, I can reflect on my actions, and see that she probably felt singled out and alone.

I don't know. I think if we had more continuous time with the kids, less starting, more moving and going and momentum building, my ability to gauge their feelings, internally and externally might be sharper. Slightly. But enough so I don't make anyone cry again.