I don't really know why I'm writing this down, it's just, well, it's been buzzing around in my head for a while now, keeping me up, you know? Like, I just turned 58 and I've been teaching third grade for thirty-five years in the same little school, the one I actually went to myself, and you’d think I’d have it all figured out by now. But lately, it feels like everything is… off. Not a big deal, I guess, but it feels like a big deal to me. It's not something I could ever talk about in the staff room, that's for sure. Everyone knows everyone here, and gossip travels faster than a sneeze in flu season. You just can’t say things. It started a few weeks ago, I guess. We got a new batch of kids, an unusually big class this year, thirty-two of them. That's a lot, especially for our old building, the classrooms aren't really built for that many little bodies. And a few of them, bless their hearts, they're… a handful. There's this one little girl, Sarah, she's really shy, barely speaks above a whisper, always looks like she's about to cry. And then there's Thomas, he's just ALL over the place, can’t sit still for a minute, always poking someone or making some kind of noise. And the demands, it's just so much more now. So many forms, so many meetings, new programs every other week. My hands started trembling a bit, just a little, during morning assembly, holding the attendance sheet. I told myself it was just because I hadn’t had enough coffee yet, you know? Just needed to wake up. But it kept happening. The trembling. And the tiredness, this deep, bone-weary tiredness that coffee doesn't even touch anymore. I used to love those mornings, seeing their little faces, all excited or sleepy, ready to learn. But now… I sort of dread it. And yesterday, during math, when Sarah raised her hand, her tiny little hand, and she was whispering some question about fractions, really trying to understand, and I just… I told her to ask Thomas to help her. Thomas! Who was trying to tie his shoelaces to the leg of his chair. She just sort of, like, shrunk back into her seat, looking at me with those big, sad eyes. And I just wanted to… I don't know. Scream, maybe? Or just curl up under my desk and not come out. I went home, and I usually spend a bit of time planning out the next day, but I just sat there, looking out the window at my garden, which is getting totally overgrown. The peonies are all floppy, and the weeds are everywhere. I used to be so proud of my garden. It's like I don't have the energy for anything anymore. And then this morning, again, during assembly, my hands were shaking so bad, I actually had to grip them together behind my back. I told myself it was just nerves, just a bad night's sleep. But it wasn't. It's like I'm watching myself do all these things, say all these things, and I don't really feel like it's me. And Sarah… I didn't even look at her today. I just couldn't. I just hope someone else… I don't know. Picks up the slack, I guess. Because I just can't. Not right now. And that feels… WRONG. Like a betrayal, sort of. Of them. And of me, maybe.