Teacher Freeze. Rant. Stress. Rant. Breathe.

I'm getting nervous.

I know I should have so many forms filled out, and so many cover letters hot off the press, in sealed envelopes, ready to mail. But I don't. Threats of teacher-freezes (who even knew that they could throw that term out there like it's a bi-yearly problem?) are leaving me with sweaty palms and an uncertain view of my next few years. I'm frantically trying to begin writing my Honors thesis, a whopping 30 pages, while the stress of getting a job is knawing at me. I feel like the end of my student teaching was a pause on my teaching career, at least until I tie up the loose ends of my English major. At the job fair, a few weeks ago, a nice man from Hendersonville told me that I needent worry, that counties didn't even know what was going on yet. It was assuring, momentarily. He was the personell director, and he shook my hand three times and told me to be sure to call. Does he really care if I call? What would I say? "Hi, you shook my hand three times and told me to call. Can I have a job? I'm a Teaching Fellow. Surely that should get my foot in the door? At least that's what they say when you sign your life away to them..."

I had a great teacher in High School who mentored me through my successful attempts to be an over achiever (that began to display itself physically through various symptoms of stress); she used to say: "Breathe."

Breathe.