Filmes, P. M. F. The beginning of life.

The hardest year of my life was my first year of teaching. Riding the A-train home at the end of another grueling day, I had my familiar daily epiphany: “I have no idea what I’m doing.” Then I had a new, even more disturbing realization: “I don’t like my class.” It didn’t make any sense. I liked every single kid—individually.

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