just one wish on this christmas eve

One of the selfish reasons I love my job is that it so often shoves every part of my own life out of the way. From days where multiple kids are going off, where I have to restrain one kid while I’m teaching math to eight others, where I have to be ready to run as fast as a ten year old (which isn’t as easy as I’m sure it should be). I have to focus on the moment to simply function, to anticipate the next move, see the fire before it happens. It’s not this huge life or death thing by any means, but it is all-consuming at times, which is often such a relief, since I struggle constantly to turn my brain off. Yesterday I stayed nearly an hour past when I was planning. The person who came to pick up my second grader was intoxicated, which was good timing as social services where waiting to do an interview. The parent was at home, incoherent. As this family is homeless and continues to get kicked out of the places they do sporadically live, the police had to take my kid to figure out where he was going to be and who he was going to be with. During the time all this was going down, I kept my boy with me. We played tick-tack-toe, the dot game, read a story about a kid who has to pee really badly, and did endless rounds of MadLibs. Then he got to go in the police car, where the officer let him hang on the top of the car to see the lights flash and hear the sirens scream. (One of the few times I didn’t have authority issues with the police. Didn’t hurt he was young and hot, either.) There were no thoughts of my own life during this time, the boy consumed everything else, and, of course, has been on my mind frequently through the night. As sick as it sounds, it’s a relief—both to have myself shoved from me and to take care of someone. Of course, watching Glee later, as Rachel Berry sang Merry Christmas Darling, tears flowed freely. I hadn’t quite pictured HWMNBN and the new person he says he loves having Christmas together. I did then.
My work load is so much easier than a regular education teacher—which is why it is so silly when other teachers say they don’t know how I do it. They don’t realize how easy it is, there is no way I could be a regular ed teacher (the work load they’re under is not exaggerated, nor is the pressure and stress). I’m sure it says very fucked up things about me that my sanity often comes from the fucked up lives my children endure. And to meet my quota for the gay agenda to keep my membership in the gay community I must point out my constant frustration with the bigotry and ignorant stance that gay people are harmful to the foundation of marriage, family, and child rearing. Uh-huh. Hopefully the gay elite mafia will be satisfied with that statement. Maybe if I were more vehement, I might get a discount on my gay dues next year, maybe a free blow-up doll or lube with purchase or something.
As much as I have sworn that I will never adopt (due to all I have seen in such cases), I have two children right now that I would take home in a heartbeat if I could.