When It's Time to Go, It's Time to Go

Photo taken on Thursday, April 4, 2004, my last day of student teaching.

Training: Week 4, Day 2
Distance: 25.3 miles
Time: 1 hour 53 minutes
Weather: 80 w/ 60% humidity
Power Song: Supermodel by Rue Paul (If you've hesitant about Rue Paul I recommend listening at mile 12 of 25 as you are tackling a hill).

Today's photo was too gruesome for even me to publish. I was late getting started this morning and didn't leave until 11 a.m. There was a nice breeze blowing off from Lake Michigan, but the skin on the back of my knees kept sticky to each other. Not a pretty sound or sight.

I realize that I left my Angry Ass story hanging with the post Living in a Toilet Paper House While It's Raining (June 13). Since my only thoughts today were, "Keep pedeling, keep pedeling, keep pedeling", this is a good place to continue with my story. Also, after some feedback I discover that it may be confusing to tell when I'm talking about present events versus past events. Anything that happened in the past will be dated and be in italics.

April 5, 2004- Despite my major realization that I was indeed sick and probably in need of some serious rest, I returned to student teaching. I went back because I really didn't know what else to do. I like security. I like being in charge of my choices. I'm a control enthusiast. Accepting that I was going to have to change my master plan and move forward with a plan that I had no say in was unsettling to me. So I returned to my classroom not sure what I was going to do, until a student, who had several vices, looked me in the eye and said,

"Amber, you look like you shouldn't be here." (Students were allowed to call teacher's by their first names, in fact, my students didn't even know my last name.)

That night I called my parents and made arrangements for them to come get me. I then called my university advisor and told him I was withdrawing. I couldn't finish out the last three weeks. He was very supportive. However, I couldn't make that last call to my supervising teacher to tell her I was leaving. I knew she'd try to guilt me out of it. Maybe that's why I called my parents first. They were the fuse for this change of events, once they started there would be no going back. In the end my mom called for me. It was easier than I thought it would be to allow someone else to think for me.

That night I had two calls from people I worked with at the school, all trying to talk me out of leaving. They said things like, "You'll regret not finishing." "You are so close, just tough it out."

I finally got mad. Really mad. How dare they question my right to get better. Sure, I'd abused myself to the point of exhaustion, but they had no right to call me and try and talk me into staying. Where they not listening at the staff meeting when I talked about my emergency air ride to Grand Rapids? Did they not hear me vomiting in the bathroom and see the dark circles under my eyes? How can they be supportive of someone that has fallen off the wagon four times, but have no compassion for me?

Looking back I realize that my angry was also self anger. How dare I question my right to get better. Was I not paying attention when I was aero-medded to Grand Rapids? Did I think it was normal to vomit in the bathroom between classes? Did I think the dark circles under my eyes were typical for student teachers? How I could I encourage teenagers to keep working at their own problems, when I couldn't even take care of myself?