The jitters are here. In exactly six days I will be in charge of 72 adolescents who speak little or no English.

I start my new job next Tuesday. I'm extremely excited to be part of this pioneering venture. My school is a year old, it's a Gates funded school (which basically means dear Bill Gates gives us anything we want), and I'm basically heading the social studies department. I'm mentally prepared. I've taken a million courses, online and off, I've attended three professional development workshops, and I've been attending the school for the past two weeks designing and developing the curriculum.

I think the main problem is that there's been TOO much preparation time. My brain's overloaded already. I'm excited as hell, but my nerves are beginning to get the better of me. I haven't slept a wink for the past five days, my hands shake all the time, I can't seem to concentrate, and I'm also falling into a depressive slump which I hope is just related to PMS and the unceasing stress.

I came home today with an iBook that the school gave me for the year. My father was jealous and tried to steal it from me (since I have the same exact iBook). He then told me that I'm very lucky to have this job. I've got a great principal, wonderful co-workers, a 20 minute commute, a small classroom (maximum 20 students in my class), and can basically order anything I want for my classroom without dealing with any bureaucracy. I'm in a college-prep school, which basically means I don't have to deal with the typical horror otherwise known as the rebellious high school student. This is the job of my dreams and it all seems perfect.

I unequivocally deserve it, though. This has been a long journey and I've worked extremely hard to get to where I am. I had to overcome a lot of personal issues as well and in the past year I've come a long way, baby.

The other day I came home in a grouchy mood. I get that way when I'm hungry or tired, and on that particular day I was both. My father kissed me hello and asked me how life was. I replied by saying life was so-so, nothing exciting.

"Why are you saying that? You should be happy".

"Why should I be happy? It's been a long day, I'm tired, I don't even want to begin to tell you the people I had to deal with today. Nothing's good right now. I'm just done."

"You should be happy that God gave you the perfect job. Isn't that something to be happy about?"

I mumbled under my breath that it wasn't God who gave me the job; that He had nothing to do with it. My father didn't hear my heretical statement and asked me to repeat what I said. I quickly asked him what time the Ahly game was, which served as the perfect means to change the subject . He completely forgot what we had been discussing. No need for the parents to think their daughter has completely lost her faith.