I feel it necessary to write about the semi-breakdown I just had about an hour and a half ago, mainly because I want to write about why I'm bounced-back from it.

I had a CIP meeting tonight.  CIP is the Critical Inquiry Project, a group designed to help teach social-justice education.  This group is comprised of a favorite professor of mine, Bree, and 5 other people who I graduated NYU with:  Dan, Emily M (As I am Emily E in all conversations since we're both there), Val, Veronica, and Symone.  The first 4 I mentioned are first year teachers:  Dan and Em have 5th graders, Veronica is a K teacher in a Catholic school, and Val is sort of teaching a mix of pre-k and k at another Catholic school.  Symone had a semester at NYU to finish up but is now a pretty full-time sub at the pre-k center SHE went to all those years ago.  I am the only one who is not teaching; I am in a classroom (well, THREE classrooms/FOUR classrooms at THREE schools technically if I count my fun week with Seth's class) 5 days a week, but I am there as an observer, a student teacher, and a tutor.

CIP has been everything.  We hear how the classroom teachers (5) implement these amazing complex units (Val teaching her kids about poverty, Dan and his fair-trade chocolate, Veronica teaching her kids about gender) that aren't part of a typical curriculum, we plan how we can go next, we share resources, we learn from Bree who is infinitely wise and helpful and straightforward, and we support each other through tough times.  First year teaching is notorious for breaking people down, and I hate knowing that my friends are going through things like this, but they all agree going to CIP is helpful not just because it helps plan the SJE (social justice education) stuff or make them stick to it, but it's a gathering of 6 other people we respect and trust and know care about our well being.  Many times 'check-in' becomes a bitch-fest, a spot to talk about what's wrong, a chance for all of us to offer a hug, a tissue, or a suggestion.  Sometimes it's just the only place we feel safe admitting certain things, and don't need anything more than the chance to say whatever it is we're thinking.

Tonight, Bree gave us an article about the stages first year teachers go through, and she asked us to read it, see if it was true, and how the group affected (effected? will I EVER learn when to use which?) these figures.   Well, everything about this article rang true for me, even though I am not a first  year teacher (see above).  The anxiety, both good and bad, the fears, the doubts in my ability, the impending pressure, the hard moments, the changes in or deviations from the plan...these are all things that make my heart freeze up.  I am a worrier.  I do fret about things that aren't a big deal (like the time I let it slip to David that GPI had left?  I didn't sleep that weekend, and it was never addressed ONCE), but they are real fears of mine.  This has been a dream of mine for so long, but you can dream all you want, it doesn't mean it will come TRUE.  I don'yt want to just be in a classroom.  I'm idealistic; I want to make a difference.  I want my kids to actually get things...more than just math or how to write an essay.  That's what CIP is.  But then I get so frazzled because I know I'm a pushover and if an administrator questions me and my planning, I AM going to take it to heart, I am going to redo everything, I am going to comply, and I'm not going to embody what the group is...and if I don't teach SJE my first year, will I the second?  Will I ever?

All of this pressure, the whole being sick thing, the fact that Relay is SATURDAY, the fact that I don't have a job lined up, the fact that I have huge final projects looming (one is due MONDAY AFTER RELAY) that I have no idea where I'm going with, the fact that CIP's trip to Chicago I won't be at 2 meetings leading up to it and also as a non-teacher contribute so little to it as it is... I just started crying.

This is not new.  I am a cryer.  I have been a cryer my whole life; NEVER for attention like 'oh if I cry, someone will look at me', or to get out of trouble.  It's just what happens.  There is something in my body where things, happy, sad, depressing, stressful, hilarious, sentimental.... I feel them stronger than other people, or different, or whatever it is, but I start welling up.  And I was trying to not make it obvious (this was just eye-leakage and a little need to wipe my  nose, no noise) because I didn't want to focus on that, but Bree kept asking if I was okay and I nodded.  But we finally shifted the attention to it, and I cried more, and let the group know my fear; that I'm going to cave to the administration and do my kids a huge disservice in the process, as well as let my groupmates down.

And they were amazing.  I knew they would be.  To start, if they weren't in my top 5 people when we graduated (the way I hung out with Val all the time, or had my strange but perfect relationship with Dan), I have grown closer to the people in this group than other people a  year ago who I don't get to see now.  They pointed out that things I was feeling, thinking...they're universal.  And Dan had things to say about me carrying him through undergrad, and my scheduling, and Val mentioned my classroom plans which Em said was a good thing to have planned already, and Bree mentioned that when she went to Dan's class the day after I was there, the kids were like 'oh, you're not Emily'...and while I don't think that's all going to prove I'm going to be good at this (what it proves is I focus on details too much and that kids LIKE me, a fact I've known since I was 5), but hearing that these very capable, very honest people believe in me...it means a lot.  It really does.  Even if they were just being nice and trying to calm me down (they've all dealt with crying Emily of various stages/reasons), they did it.  They were the best support group anyone could ever ask for.  And that's probably why CIP is so critical for us; not just instruction (which I will need a LOT of next year), but people like Val to tease me, Bree to somehow make what I was warbling an intelligent, justifiable thing, Dan to give me a hug and threaten that if I cry again he'll kill me, and someone to squeeze my hand and let me know I'll be okay.

So I'll be okay.