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Wednesday, September 14, 2016

In a Pickle...

 Musings from a tree house:

Pickles....and getting into and out of them...

It's a complex issue--this PTSD with which I've been diagnosed.  The "who-I-am" piece--the people pleasing, hard working, do-gooder--can work hard all the time, but certainly can't please everybody.  There will be people unhappy with me and my work. 

I tend to focus on them.

So, there's that. 

Put the caring "me's" of the world--and most educators get into education because they are caring--into schools with crazy but well connected men and women in charge (there are lots of those)--and you got yourselves briny pickles of schools.  Maybe entire "pickley" school districts.  

There's just no way for do-gooders to please psychopaths. Good work just makes them mad.  Honesty scares them. Before you know it, the honest do gooders are in major pickles.  Big ones.  We're talking "on-top-of-New York-deli-counters" size.

A very big pickle: I was placed by my district into the briniest, craziest. most dangerous, pickliest school in my district. But that was 2008!  I've been out of there since 2010!  I work for a good guy now.  I like and trust him.  So why am I writing again about it?! 

As I said, PTSD is a complex issue.  And I've been in a PTSD pickle. Although I trust my current principal, I don't trust the big bosses.  I don't feel I am safe.  I don't feel my children--students in our school district--are safe either. 

I suffer.  Can't sleep.  Obsess. 

But maybe the education pickles ain't all so big and briny. Maybe the pickles we nice educators get into are just tiny no account gherkins and it's our diagnosed and undiagnosed PTSD a-talkin'.

So, how do I get out of this pickle?  

I go back to work.  God bless me.  I'm going back to work.

6:47 pm edt          Comments

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