Cut to ABERDEEN HS teacher bathroom. It is a small cramped space with 2 vending machines that the kids use (illegally) far more than the adults. Tears are heard through the bathroom door despite the water running in the sink.
"I am fine," I said as I scooted out of the staff bathroom. There was black smeared on the edges of my eyes. My chest ached and so did my feet and so did my throat. I felt like one of those wrecks that you can't look away from, cliché as it sounds. People (students and teachers) watched me sniffle through the hall, unsure of what I was doing and even more unsure of how to fix what I had done wrong. Aberdeen, for me, was a personal hell. The town, the teachers, the students... I hated it all. I hated the Food Giant and the fact that it didn't have pesto or curry. I hated the teachers who whispered about me until I came close enough that my presence interrupted their conversations about "that poor girl." I hated the students who seemed to be personally targeting me every day. And most of all, I hated that I couldn't leave.
That was episode one, the pilot. And it lasted for 4 months. From August to December 2015, I felt like I was being punished for something as I was forced the repeat the torture of not being able to handle kids for months at a time. Every morning the same: too much coffee, a cigarette in the car, and anxiety accompanied by blood pressure that matched that of a 70 year old smoker. Every afternoon the same: tears on my planning period, followed by 2 more periods with classes bigger than 25 kids. Every evening the same: planning until late in the evening, calling my parents to tell them the latest fiasco that had happened, and usually more coffee.
I was a 23 year old who had no idea what she was in for. I was scared and lost and quickly learning humility. I spent every weekend running away, a child without a home.
Eventually I learned to love the town and the kids and staff and the Food Giant. But that's in later episodes. For now, here's a snapshot of where this documentary takes place. These are the classrooms I grew in, the house that took care of me, and the sunsets that accompanied me home.