The first day of school is now behind me. Nothing much happened: introductions, a brief speech from the headmaster, then the mayor–nothing to speak of.

A minor tragedy happened while someone was speaking: a girl fainted. She was standing behind a crowd of people. She slipped forward through everyone, falling limp in the floor. Her head hit the hardwood floor with a thump that had a sickening echo. Several male teachers rushed to her. She came to and was taken from the room. I don’t know what else happened to her–I didn’t see whether she returned.

I finally received some kind of schedule, but it is still not finalized, for against my better judgment, I picked up four more hours (at the primary school). So I have twenty-two hours in four days, for I did manage to get Friday off.

I’ve mixed feelings about this: On one hand, eighteen hours is the minimum a teacher can have and I felt a little guilty having so few in comparison to Danuta. Yet my inexperience makes me understandably anxious about it. I want to do a good job, and if I am spread too thin . . .

Of course that is not the only thing: I will be teaching first year students. This will have its advantages and its problems. For one thing, my work is cut out for me. I know exactly what I must teach them. Yet communication will be tough at first owing to my virtually non-existent Polish. I remember my frustration in Polish class when the teachers would not speak any English (some, anyway). Now it will not be a question of willingness, but ability.