Bang Bang I'm Dead

Someone once told me that we never witness our own death in a dream because to do so would signal the death of the psyche. Insanity or death of the body would necessarily follow soon after.

This morning I dreamed I was murdered on St. Charles Ave. I was reading a book and eating a sandwich at an outdoor cafe when two young males (hooded and standing in shadow so I never saw their faces) passed near my table. I greeted them but the taller one didn't like my northern accent. "Be nice, be nice," he said as he reached into his sweatshirt for the gun.

The thought in my head began "Is it really my turn?" but I only managed "Is it really..." before the first round hit me, center of chest, creating a slow wave of heat that quickly saturated my body. The subsequent bullets--he fired three or four times--didn't hurt. They were impact echos.

Alternatively, other dream analysts believe death-of-the-dreamer-by-murder dreams indicate the repression of emotions and instincts that seek vengeance.

This was a hard week at the middle school. On the worst day of the week, the business manager told me they were letting me go. The vibe at the school has been ominous since first of the year and reduction of the music program staff is imminent so I didn't complain. Turns out he misspoke and I still have my job...and, in fact, the last day of the week was fantastic: the girls were communicative and stayed on task the entire period.

But during those hours when I thought the job was over, I reflected on the funky vibe at the school, the disgruntled and/or kissing-ass teachers, the director (or principal or whatever his title is) who loves the sound of his own voice or speaking before a captive audience of students.

The school social worker told me, "You have to be the constant. The kids are always changing--they can't help it." Whoa! If there was ever a clear indicator I'm in the wrong room...

I like teaching--a lot--but the situation at KIPP is riddled with problems and, for my tastes, an uncomfortable amount of constraint on everybody's behavior--staff, teachers and kids. There's a lot I feel and don't show; a lot I think and don't say.

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I continue to weave beads into my Gateway to Second Chances. Monday I asked for two more private piano students and three new students will begin study this weekend... Teaching in my own studio is a much better fit.

Starting to feel like my days at KIPP are numbered--one way or another.