Categories: uncategorized
Date: 06 May 2004 22:45:41
I've had an email from work - it sounds like they're looking to end my contract. They seem unable to understand that I am not prone to stress, just that I have been doing too much and that cutting my hours will make all the difference. I feel so frustrated. I have done my utmost not to inconvenience the school more than neccesary. I carried on working for longer so's to give them chance to find good supply; I tried not to go off sick full time at all until I was given an ultimatum of going off sick or working full time; I spent hours before I went off sick putting together a folder of work to keep a supply teacher going for a month, including notes on each child's strengths and weaknesses and ways in with them and a full set of photocopies for the children to work from. All I want is to have a bit of time to draw breath in the hectic day, a bit of time to spend with my father without the children around so that I can then spend time with the children alone. I hate the implication that I'm swinging the lead when I know that I'm a devoted and enthusiastic teacher who actually does want to get back to work. I hate the implication that I am too weak to work under stress when I've proved a hundred times that that's not the case. I hate being hostage to things I cannot change.
Father God, I trust you. Help me to feel that security of your fingertip-to-fingertip touch and not to fear for the future. Help me to do what's right and best for all those who depend upon me.
ON the plus side, aquafit was brilliant, and I feel quite revitalised by it. We're going again next week. And I have the chance at last to participate in some Bible Study locally too. And the nurse was brilliant with Tiddles and reassured us both that his grazed shoulder is healing without any infection, just slowly. And we had a good laugh with Margaret when we raced round to the rescue at her house as I received a strange phone call from her. My phone rang, showing her number, and yet when I answered it there was just heavy breathing and a "snip snip snip" sound. No words and, though I hung up, it was still the same when I lifted the receiver again. We leapt in the car and raced round to rescue her from the mad axe murderer who was obviously cutting her into tiny pieces with scissors.... only to find that she had her phone in her trouser pocket while she was trimming her hedge and had accidentally knocked against the "redial" button!
Right, off to bed to try hard not to think about my job. I'll phone Occupational Therapy again tomorrow.