"miss, what is your problem?"

The biggest obstacle to my teaching continues to be my own fluctuating moods. I have always been a moody person (my boyfriend calls me "sensitive" when he is feeling forgiving about my mood swings). The heat and poverty of India, not to mention my protein deficiency and homesickness often render me a blubbering mess at the slightest drop of the hat.

I walked into class a few weeks ago expecting my co-teacher, Priyanka to teach (copy) an essay that period. When I arrived, however, she informed me she did not have the book with the essay, so she could not teach it. I had expected her to teach so I had not brought my materials to class, nor had I prepared a lesson. What was I going to do? Grumbling, I went back to my room to retrieve my book. I spent 10 minutes frantically searching, for the book was hidden under a pile of papers. By the time I got back to class we were halfway through the period.

"The girls do not understand the unit," Priyanka informed me as soon as I entered the room. I was out of breath. "I must translate it for them." Oh great, I thought. They don't understand the thing I have been spending the last week teaching them.

As Priyanka translated, I stood at the front of the classroom, seething. I reminded myself to take deep breaths. "One, two, three," I thought, observing the rise and fall of my stomach. I could tell, however, that a frown had formed on my face. What could I say? I was pissed and frustrated by the wasted class period.

As the bell rung and students got up to leave, a bunch of girls crowded around me.

"Miss, miss!" they asked worriedly. "What is your problem??" (the word "problem" in India is used for just about anything, so the phrase "what is your problem" is not a condescending one, as it is in America. In retrospect though, the wording was apt). Apparently, despite my anger management techniques, the girls had picked up on my foul mood.

"Nothing. I just wanted to teach you an essay today but wasn't able to."

"Oh, we are sorry, we are sorry!" they chanted, pulling on their earlobes (perhaps a Gujarati way of expressing regret? I'm not sure). I blushed.

"No, it's not your fault!" Really it was not their fault, and I didn't want them to feel bad for neglect on our part. "I should have brought the book myself."

"We are sorry!" they continued, as if unwilling to let my bad mood be my own fault.

My mood, of course, was my own fault. But it was incredibly sweet- not to mention worrisome- to have my students notice and ask me about it. From then on I resolved to keep my emotions at home... a skill I will undoubtedly be the better for in the future.