For my first day back teaching, I was a whirling dervish of energy. I followed along with the Israeli teenager who led us in a TikTok style dance; I taught Hebrew through Movement, which involved a lot of standing up and sitting down and walking, walking, walking; and then I taught my two classes and met (most of) my new students, which meant a lot more standing and dancing and crazy hand gestures and funny breathing exercises. At the time, I was sure I was going to be fine. I mean, it’s not like I was running around the building, or doing pratfalls for laughs (like my students).
But a couple of hours after I got home, my body started to stiffen and the pain began to set in. By the next morning, I could barely move.
It took me a few days to recover. And, if possible, the second day of teaching was even more challenging. So now, I’m scared. I’m not sure if this physical response is worse than last year’s, or if I just got out of the habit of feeling like I’d been run over by a truck a few times a week. And I’m frustrated, because I spent the whole summer trying to build up strength and endurance in the hopes that I would start the new school year feeling more resilient, and, at the very least, it didn’t work.
It was wonderful to see my students from last year, and to meet the new kids and hear their unique stories and start to untangle all of the drama among them (this will clearly take all year). And I can see a lot of interesting discussions and tons of silliness in my future, but there’s a voice in the back of my head warning me, you may not last the whole year.
The fact is, I know I will do everything I can to be there for my students and to live up to all of my commitments – but it’s going to be harder, and it’s going to hurt.
A few weeks ago, my therapist said, in passing, that my disease/disorder/undiagnosed chronic illness, is degenerative. She didn’t say, “it may be degenerative,” she said “it is.” For many years, she didn’t even believe that there was anything physically wrong with me. She was convinced that all of the pain and exhaustion was psychological, and therefore hard work in therapy would fix everything. But after decades of intensive therapy, and obvious progress in my mental and emotional heath, my physical issues have only worsened, and, finally, her theory of the case had to change.
But there are so many things I still want to do! I want to teach more, not less. I want to write more, and meet more people, and travel, and dance, and sing. I was really hoping that this summer’s home-made physical therapy regimen was going to make a difference, and I’m so disappointed that it hasn’t helped. To be fair, it’s possible that without all of that work over the summer I would have been in even worse shape for the start of the school year. But for many years now, I’ve been trying everything I could think of: every medication and supplement doctors have suggested, and every exercise and treatment and strategy I could find. But I’m going to have to accept that it’s possible that this is as good as my health is going to get, and find a way to deal with that.
But really, I don’t wanna. I want to throw a tantrum and scream and kick the floor and just cry. It seems to make my students feel a whole lot better, so, maybe it’s the next thing I should try. It couldn’t hurt! Much.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 
Your teaching sounds like you are using some comprehensible input! I feel like I run a marathon every day. Teaching can be exhausting.
Absolutely!
Oh dear. I cannot imagine the frustration you are feeling. Perhaps you can devote some special lesson time explaining your conundrum with your students. If you decide to do this, they will learn some profound lessons that they might someday need to apply to their own lives. It is something to think about .
That’s a great idea!
so sorry you’re dealing with all of this
Thank you!
Maybe you could do less walking/dancing/hand gestures and clap your hands and give lots of verbal encouragement, instead. I hope you find something that helps, because your love of teacher shines through, Rachel.
I’m working on adaptations now. Fingers crossed.
❤️🙏🙏
Chronic pain with no diagnosis is seriously the worst. I understand the pitfalls of feeling like you’re going crazy because no one can tell you the reason for your pain. You should be proud of yourself for trying to work through the pain and maintain as normal a life as possible.
Thank you so much!
Rachel, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. Perhaps go to another specialist…or someplace like the Mayo Clinic to try to get a diagnosis and treatment plan…
Maybe next summer…
Your pain situation sounds very worrisome. Is it similar to fibromyalgia?
That poses many uncertainties, the relationship to emotion and muscle pain that nobody completely understands.
Sad to know about your pain
Claude
Thank you!
Rachel, I’m sorry to read of your pain and suffering.
I continue to be inspired by your drive to teach young people.
Thank you!
Now I ain’t no Doc, but it seems to me that you have already found where to take this. Yes, it hurts, pains and aches, kids have waaaaaay more energy than you and I did, or maybe they don’t … we were unstoppable but only in the backyard, not in some anonymous land. I would say that you and I are fine, and therapists aren’t doctors anyway, even it they claim to know all or even doctors in their hubris. It’s just a matter of adapting. They need to keep up with YOU while you breathe just a little heavier. You are teacher.
Thank you!
Good luck. I hope this temporary. Someone above suggested scaling back the physical part? Food for thought. Teaching is very demanding.
I will try. Thank you!
{hugs}
You’re doing great. When you start feeling it, let the kids take over. They might be sitting at home wondering where you get all your energy!
I never thought of that!
I share your frustration and your confusion. Wishing you loads of success in finding your own, unique balance in life. ❤️
Thank you!
Oh Rachel, I am so, sorry to hear this. I hope you can find some compromise approach to teaching that can minimize your pain. You are clearly a gifted teacher, and it brings you such joy and gratification, it’s well worth exploring what boundaries you can put around your teaching that will leave less exhausted. 🙏🙏🙏
Thank you!
The temptation was too great. You had to do it all on Day One. Slow down and remember to breathe and you’ll manage the whole year.
When I’m with the kids, I forget what I can’t do.
You should let them know how much you love doing things with them, but that you need to go slowly. Tell them to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don’t overdo it. It will give them a sense of responsibility and matureness—a great lesson in its own right.
That’s a great idea!
Praying for your stamina, your pain-free body, and your ability to do what you enjoy. So sorry to hear about the first day difficulties and your “degenerative disorder” … Must be discouraging! But, maybe as Stephen and others have suggested, “It’s just a matter of adapting.” I pray it’s that simple!!
I hope so too!
It must be awful, Rachel. For me, psychotherapy saved my life. Seven years ago I was in so much physical pain, all over-muscles, joints, I could hardly move. (9.5 on a scale of 1 to 10) I went to a clinic and there was nothing wrong that they could find. The PA suggested, “why don’t you talk to someone?”
I resisted, but the pain would not go way. Finally, I reached out to a Clinical Psychologist and she agreed to see me. I still see her, we talk about “what’s going on.” I’m pain free – just old.
Hang in there. You’re one of best!
That’s an amazing outcome!
I suffer from rheumatoid arthritis and lupus, among other things. So I can empathize w/ your frustration, Rachel. It may be that you will have to cut back on some of the physical activities your students enjoy. But that won’t impact your ability to teach. Do not lose heart.
It may, also, be that your doctor was wrong about the progressive nature of your disease, or the rate of progression. In any case, worry about the future won’t help you. Leave it in God’s hands. ❤
I will try! Thank you!
Rachel –
I hope that your physical exhaustion and pain are not chronic like your therapist says and that you can navigate your teaching responsibilities with less discomfort moving forward.
Dedicated and well-meaning teachers are hard to come by, and judging by how you describe your interactions with students, they’re lucky to have you.
I wish you well!
Thank you!
I am sorry to learn about your pain. I do admire your strength and perseverance through all this pain. I do think you should dance, though! We all should dance more.
The dancing was so much fun!
A tantrum could be cathartic. Although, unlike the Greeks, this catharsis would not be after-crisis, since the crisis would persist. Sigh. Maybe still something to try. Because I have heart disease and take soporific medicines, I tend to feel tired all the time. I do a few things during the day and am then exhausted. Frustrating, isn’t it? I haven’t been teaching for a while, so I don’t know how that would go. Since you’re dedicated, I know you’ll invest yourself as best you can and may. Rosh Hashanah! (I’m writing on October 2.) I hope this be a grand new year for you–in school and everything.
Thank you!
I like scream and yell…and then pound a pillow. Release it all…
Sending positive thoughts~!
Thank you!
Has another dog adopted you yet? Dogs definitely help with any illness/condition.
Not yet. But we’re hoping!
Human reports – like your therapist’s – are not always accurate. God is a God of healing. Let Him give you the last word. God bless and strengthen you as you provide instruction to your students. Without even having met you in person, I know you are a wonderful teacher and that the students need what you can give them.
Thank you!
Teaching is draining—I agree!