It’s a short blog this week and the theme is MIND YOURSELVES. June is a desperate month altogether for fractious behaviour, or it is in the world of education anyway. I speak from bitter experience. I don’t know whether it’s circadian rhythms, fatigue, or just the fact that I’m a crabbed auld bitch, but any serious altercations I’ve ever had, with friends, family or work colleagues, have kicked off either round June or Christmas-time.
It makes sense, doesn’t it? No one makes good decisions when tired or over-stretched. When thus pressurised, the sensible part of my brain, the part that reins in my baser instincts, goes into retreat, and the irrational side reigns supreme. There are too many people to please, too many demands, too many looming deadlines.
A friend of mine who is normally quite unflappable, admitted to feeling exactly the same way, saying that June always has a similar frenzied feel to Christmas, with its raft of social engagements and accompanying expectations. She, however, is a sweet-natured sort, who doesn’t go round insulting folk when they annoy her. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to help myself. I’ve told people they are rude, insufferable, and bereft of manners. Once, instead of just saying ‘No thank you,’ to a kindly woman who enquired if I’d like to work in her (albeit rather tough school,) I retorted, ‘I’d rather die.’ There wasn’t a bit of need for it, but I was so beside myself with exhaustion that I didn’t even register how rude I’d been.
And now, we’re in June again, and the tension is tingling at my temples as the strain of the year takes hold.
The usual stress factors have been ratcheted up a notch too, since we’re existing practically in tropical climes, minus any decent air-con or swimming pools in our back yards in which to cool off. Usually I long for warmer weather, but reality is a cruel mistress, and spending hours each week cooped up in a classroom has been testing, to say the least.
So take heed from one who has f**ked up aplenty, and don’t ask too much of yourselves. Say no to things. Pour a glass of something cool, elevate your puffy ankles and allow time for some respite; better to bite your tongue once than spend the summer licking a multitude of wounds.
