Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Sometimes I hate my job.

If you do not have a child with a reading disability you need to thank the Lord. It's the most frustrating problem I have ever encountered. I help children with reading difficulties. Sometimes the despair and frustration is too much. It's overwhelmingly frustrating to see a child struggle with something that is automatic for so many others. It's like watching someone with one leg trying to walk or someone with no hands trying to open a door. It seems absolutely impossible.

I'll admit there are days that stand out as good days. Days where the reading seems fluid, the ideas seem to come together, and the process of learning to read almost realized. Those are the good days. You can see it on their faces. They feel as if they have conquered a giant and are standing proud. Those days I feel privileged to be apart of the process. Those days are like honey. Days like today where a student can't remember the /u/ sound or forgets what a syllable is or just doesn't even care about reading, those days are like poison.

My heart melts and my brain freezes. I feel like a hurdle instead of a help.

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