Oh, I tell myself, it's so much worse elsewhere. Think of Jamaica--no a/c and 60 kids in a class and no books. Or Haiti, whose schools are still being constructed.
But I can't stop the thoughts from pounding. That bungalow is a slow cooker. There will be kids in there for four consecutive hours. My windows face south so there won't even be a breeze. Sitting in the wooden oven that is my portable classroom is a challenge for all but recent immigrants from Jamaica or Haiti.
Do you know what thirteen year olds smell like after being in the sun for an hour? Do you know how they complain when their comfort zone is messed with? Do you know how hard it is to teach and learn about mercantilism (not so sexy in the best of conditions!) when sitting in a 100° room? I do, and hence the dread.