The Third Lap

I'm sitting at the park. The only sound I hear is my car heater running as mist coats my windshield. I came here to run but that probably won't happen.

I am tired.

I am a first year teacher. 

I am five months into a journey that has proven to be quite arduous. My schedule is such that every 25 minutes, a new class of 30-40 children enter my room for their music experience of the day. These children are beautiful, inquisitive, sometimes challenging, often inspiring. 

I am an introvert. I am a highly sensitive person. Emotions are thick, almost a waxy solid in my life. I feel everything - my energy and everyone else's. It's a heavy weight to carry when 400 people walk in and out of my life daily.

As I sit in my car, my imagination transports me back to a memory. The lights are bright, energy is high. I am at a mile race. I know the third 400 meters is crucial. This is the heart of the race, the place where the pain amplifies immensely and I am not sure I can finish. Keeping up the same pace as before is crucial or I fade behind the pack. I struggle. The finish feels so far away. Muscles ache and feet burn on the track surface. I have never felt so far from the end.

This is the third lap of the school year. I feel emotionally worn out, but am afraid to talk about it. Teaching is supposed to be a passion. Any discussion of wavering strength shows weakness and lack of dedication to the profession. Am I allowed to discuss my fading strength?

All I know is the rain pours, it's the heart of winter, and the third lap is mentally the longest.