At 1:40 p.m. today, my last student ran out the door headed straight to a joyful summer of play, sleeping late, and NO SCHOOL. They were expectant, ready, and happy to be free. Boy, do I remember that feeling. I experienced a wee bit of it today myself. I gathered my things and headed out the door shortly after the kids did so that I could go into town and do some shopping with my son. I left my classroom cluttered and in a partial state of being cleared for the summer. I will return tomorrow to do more cleaning and fill out some paperwork for our faculty meeting on Monday morning. Tonight I will not think about those chores. Tonight I will savor the feeling of beginning the first real break I have had in two years. Exactly two years ago this month, I began my course study and truthfully (no, I’m not exaggerating), I have not had a day’s break since then. Weekends, evenings, and summers found me studying. Even if I took an evening or a partial day to do something else, it was always THERE, never far from my thoughts, always hovering over my head. I would feel guilty if I took a little “me” time and always knew that a leisurely afternoon or evening would only translate into extra work later.
I’m so thankful I waited until my youngest child was old enough to be fairly independent to start this venture, because frankly, poor Rosie was ignored quite frequently. Thankfully she’s at that age where parents are mostly an embarrassment and pain in the neck. I think on some level she was glad that my attention was diverted away from her for a season (and then again, maybe I’m just trying to salve my conscience). Either way, with her busy schedule and my studying madness, we have not had much mother/daughter time. I’m looking forward to that changing now.
So here I am, ending my (half) year as I started it; penning my thoughts in this blog. It has been therapeutic and great fun to write about my experiences. I am still incredulous that anyone besides my immediate family and dearest friends have had any interest in reading these ramblings.
Recently, the grandmother of one my students hugged me and thanked me tearfully for caring about and for her grandchild. She faithfully keeps updated about the goings-on in our classroom and wanted to express her appreciation. I was deeply moved and humbled that she had such confidence in my teaching and in me. I guess it's nice that there is a format for the parents of my students to get a birds eye view of our classroom.
I would have liked to have had more time to write, but time for such things was precious and scarce at best. I usually couldn’t find time until quite late at night, usually near the Cinderella hour of midnight. So I hope you have graciously excused poor grammar and misspelled words. They have been the casualty of an overwhelmed and exhausted first year teacher. I am grateful for the loving, unofficial editors comprised of friends and relatives that have brought some of my errors to my attention. I am sure there are many more that were missed.
And now I will take a few moments to highlight some of the more stand-out moments since my first day on the job. Here goes:
Let’s start with the first day. I was excited, thankful to have a teaching job, and ready to practice the wonderful teaching strategies that had mostly been theory until now. But looking back, I was ill prepared for the overwhelming cacophony that would comprise that first day and the following weeks. Not so much classroom management or behavioral issues (motherhood had groomed me for those), but more keeping track of the hectic schedule and trying to stay on top of the day and all that must be accomplished in the course of a day. It took several weeks before I felt I had any sense of control over those things. I’m still not there, but at least it felt better here at the end.
Of course, the March blizzard and subsequent overnight stay at school will always be etched in memory. To take my place in that historic event with seasoned teachers who had never experienced it themselves was something of an honor (thankfully that “honor” only involved one night!).
And then there are the individual students whose circumstances were each unique as I learned to know them and learned about them. I shared their journey for a brief moment in time and was changed by their stories. You met my student whose mother was killed in a car accident a year ago. He has continued to work through his grief and is still trying to process how his world has changed forever. I hope I’ve helped further him along, but I can’t be sure. There is only so much a soul can do.
There is the student who lives with guardians because his reality is complicated. There are the students who excel academically and those who struggle. There are the dinosaur lovers and the horse freaks, and the super hero aficionados whose topic knowledge is expansive.
There are the students whose parents divorced during the school year. Can you imagine trying to put on a brave face at school for your teacher and classmates while inside you are aching and confused? All of this has been part of my first year. You know what? I can’t shut it off at the end of the day. I bring those very real, tangible evidences of life evolving home with me, and along with my six and seven-year-old’s, I’ m just trying to make sense of it all. One day I listened to the tearful admission of a child of divorce as he poured out his hurt. I couldn’t stop the tears that coursed down my own face. His heartache became my own. He wanted answers. I had none to give. I could only listen and share his agony.
There were funny moments too. More than I could ever record in this limited space. On Earth Day when we spread out and clean the highway ditches around town, one boy fervently hoped all morning that he would find a shark tooth during the ditch-sweep (but that would require a salt-water ocean…. oh, never mind…) And then there are the proud moments that my sweeties insist on sharing with me. One child came to me holding a tissue in his hand. “Mrs. Dahl’” he said earnestly, “look!” he said shoving the tissue towards my face. I looked down at the treasured item and saw the most enormous green booger I had ever seen. Very impressive. Thanks for sharing.
As I reflect, I realize that my learning curve has been steep. Student teaching certainly helps prepare for the classroom. But truthfully, in many ways it falls short. That is because a new teacher can’t be prepped for everything that will be unique to their first teaching experience. There is just one way to adjust and that is to simply plow through it, sort of like driving through a steep mountain pass. Don’t count on finding a spot for turning around. Just keep going forward. You may find you were forced to take the round about way, but at the very least, it will have been scenic.
So as I close this school year and this last day post, I leave a part of me with this group of students. They are the woof and warp of this place in my journey. Unchangeable and unforgettable. Did I do everything right? Absolutely not. I have lots of do-overs on my list. I’m hoping and trusting that next fall I will have approached those faux pas with clear vision and a new plan. I want to be reflective and self-correcting continually.
My title intimates that I have “arrived.” No, silly. I don’t believe that for a moment. Here’s my bottom line on that topic. Teaching is waaaaay harder than it looks. I will never arrive. I will be learning how to teach for the rest of my career, however long or short that may be. But neither am I the freshman newbie I was four months ago. That ended my first day on the job. The good news is, I am already excited for the fall. I want to do it all over again. That’s a good sign, right?
And just so you know, I will probably throw up a post or two during the summer as topics, time, and inspiration strike me. So hang with me, or take the summer off, it’s your call.
Thank you for sharing my journey. Thank you for being interested in the things that interest me. And thanks for rooting for me. I am changed forever.
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