Baby P

I have found this week really difficult. I often feel like I'm suffering a bit of winter depression at this time of year anyway, it's getting darker and colder and spring seems so far away. I find that it gets more and more difficult to control my emotions. But the winter stuff is normal and predictable, and just like child birth, it may be tough physically but knowing their will also be a predictable ending makes it a lot less tough mentally. However, a few things this year are making it more difficult to cope with and the depth of my emotions far less predictable. I hate my job. Not the kids. Working with kids is unbelievably rewarding. But the pressure I get to achieve exam results, when most other subjects 'cheat' (GNVQs, BTECs, fast-tracking, one-to-one mentoring etc.), can become unbearable. If someone were to record my stress levels at work I imagine they would probably be able to give me a fairly accurate figure of how much shorter my life will be if I carry on working to 65!
Anyway, one or two other things have been contributing to making me feel down, although that is the word that roles off the tongue but is not the word that most accurately describes how I am feeling. I feel like I have all the normal feelings but each one is more extreme. If feel sad, I feel consumed, if I feel happy I feel exuberant. But these feelings make me want to cry, so a normal everyday feeling of happiness or sadness finds me trying desperately to try to change the subject in my head because the lump in my throat is about to put me in an embarrassing situation.
I have been having feeling of inadequacy, like I am all talk and no action but I lack the confidence to act upon some of my beliefs and not acting makes me feel worse when my feelings are already quite extreme. So I started doing a little bit of charity work at school, setting up a little enterprise run by kids who have problems with self esteem or socialising.
Then the story of Baby P has hit the headlines. A story of unimaginable cruelty. And someones unimaginable incompetence in leaving that poor, poor child in that situation. I didn't want to hear the details, I was upset enough. I joined and regularly contribute to NSPCC in the hope that I can make a little bit of a difference. But on Thursday a child in my classroom told me some of the torture that was inflicted on this defenceless child. I wanted to cry and screams and bash those peoples heads against a wall who could find satisfaction or pleasure in doing these cruel things. It was open evening so I had to hold my feelings in until about 8.15 when I dropped a girl off at home (a delightful girl who copes incredibly well despite having a malicious elder brother and a drug addicted mother). Since then I have hardly been able to think about anything else. I could hardly sleep on Thursday. God, I hope someone learns lessons from this. It makes me want to take in every poor neglected child and give them love. Love which is so desperately needed by so many young people today.