The first day back to school was

actually not completely insufferable.

Granted, I did lean up against the blackboard during my first class only to realize an hour later that there was a a white chalk line running all the way across my derriére. And yes, two hours later I did hear a ripping sound as I stood up only to realize that I had left behind a chunk of red fabric from my dress that had somehow gotten caught on a screw in the chair. And yes, that does imply that I spent the rest of the day with a hole in the back of my skirt. (At least it was a rather small hole... and I was wearing leggings underneath.)

But, at the end of the day as I was walking towards the train station one of my students came running up to tell me that she wanted to study international development (I had mentioned it was my minor in class). She told me how she wanted to be an aid worker and how she could see herself in that life and that it would be fulfilling. She wanted to talk to me about what I had learned and what I thought and what I knew. And suddenly, it was worth the embarrassing moments and the destruction of my clothes just to talk to this darling, brilliant young woman about her beautiful dreams and maybe in some small way to share with her something that might be of importance as she strives to reach her goals. I can only hope.

Also, today I got invited to take a trip to Portugal at the end of the year with some 15 year olds. They're adorable.

And thus it begins. The horrors and the joys of teaching. Is it possible to have one without the other? I am beginning to doubt it.