Speaking of Dreams

I had my recurring nightmare last night.  I am teaching in a completely different and destroyed classroom with every pain-in-the-butt, disruptive, academically complacent (lazy), and disrespectful student that I have had in my seven plus year tenure in Brooklyn public schools.  Most, if not all, are from my middle school teaching years; the same place that my wife still works!  My supervisor moved my classroom moments before the class began.  I now have no materials, seating plan, chalk/board markers, and, of course, not enough seat for every child.  Everyone is just coming back from lunch recess.  They are sweaty and highly energized because there was some sort of fight in the hallway.  Moments after the period starts a parade of supervisors, advisors of those supervisors, and kiss-ass teachers parades into my room to observe my lesson.  I am in a complete fog.  I can't think or see straight.  I am stumbling.  There are children throwing paper balls in the back of the classroom.  In another corner, a fight starts and, as I attempt to break-up the fight, others light up cigarettes.  Each moment I look up at the clock and time is standing still.  I can't leave until the bell rings.  Some kids just storm out, the observers are furiously writing in their logs, scowling above the rims of their glasses, whispering to each other.  Time stands still,  and I can't wake up.

This is a reoccurring dream.  In my second month of teaching, seven years ago, everything but the cigarette smoking happened.  Why I stayed, I have no idea!