Breathe in, breathe out, compose your face, and carry on.
Half of teaching is patience. Maintaining a placid exterior, and letting students know that you’re upset without blasting them. Not taking it personally when they’re not meeting your standards of behavior. It’s biting your tongue twelve times a day, choking back what you want to say and rising above it.
It’s remembering that though you’re feeling like crap, and you walked to school in the middle of a typhoon to be there teaching them, they’re probably feeling worse. That though slogging through the streets-turned-river that runs through your town is horrible, at least you get to go home. That when you are done for the day you get to take your public face off, dust it off, and hang it up for tomorrow. You can stretch your real face and exist as your inner self, which is something that some of these students who live eight to a room, elbow to elbow with people who are friends, classmates, competitors and strangers all rolled into one, never get to fully do.
When it comes down to it, teaching is really all about pausing to inhale, exhale, and find a way to continue.