Summertime ...

And the living is easy. Although old habits really do die hard, I’m discovering. The first week of summer, nightmares about teaching still plagued my long-awaited sleep. My body still jerks awake after 5 hours in bed, dreading the morning routine, until I pleasantly realize that I can safely sleep another 5 hours if I so desire. And, recent trips to the outside world confirm that certain teacher habits have become somewhat innate: I saw a pair of boys arguing & fighting, and my 1^st instinct was to call out, “Guys, cut it out!” And as I walk around the mall, I have to fight the urge to tell kids “put your phone away, please,” and “Hats off inside the building, young man.” Who is this monster I’ve become?? It’s a little frightening.

It’s nice to have the welcomed free time, although it’s a bit strange. I vacillate between feeling like a caged animal set free and like an aimless wanderer with no real purpose anymore. For 10 long months, being a teacher has defined almost every moment of my life.

I’m finding plenty of ways to fill the free time, though. Every 2 or 3 days I indulge in some sort of retail therapy (thankfully I opted for the 12-month paycheck, otherwise I’d be in deep trouble). I’m happily satisfying my suddenly voracious appetite for books. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I just finished The Devil Wears Prada, but hey . . . a little non-intellectual fiction never hurt anyone, and it has stayed on the Times bestseller list for awhile. I’m even managing to exercise, despite the heat.

So far, my summer “to do” list remains on the back burner. Somehow, simplifying my closet & rearranging my file cabinet don’t seem all that important . . . or the least bit desirable. I even found myself (by far the most unpolitical citizen) watching C-Span. C-Span! Thankfully I do have 2 summer jobs lined up for July, otherwise I might fall into the horribly brain-numbing soap opera trap. Surely I wouldn’t. Not me.

As for now, it’s almost naptime. Daily afternoon thunderstorms have induced this new habit, and I have no intentions to break this routine until mid-August.

Finally!

I'm not sure it's really "hit me" yet, but it's over. Somehow, I survived my 1st year of teaching. The last week was chaotic, bittersweet, endearing, and painful. (Whoever decided to give EOGs & benchmarks 2 weeks before the last day of school was a complete idiot, in my opinion!)

My room seems so empty and quiet. The walls are white & sterile again . . . I remember being overwhelmed by those walls back in August, wondering how I'd ever fill up the space and make it look like a classroom. I can't remember a time when the room was this . . . still. I refuse to erase my white board yet . . . the kids covered it with farewell messages & cryptic quotes & signatures.

It was interesting, watching our kids deal with the last day of school. They started out excited, understandably. They actually behaved nicely during the final 8th grade assembly (did they actually mature since the beginning of school??) After the slideshow, they began the crying cascade, which seemed to be more of a "she's crying, so I need to cry" deal. At lunch, the tears seemed a bit more genuine. (Although, some of the guys were undoubtedly crying b/c it elicited much attention from the girls, I'm sure.) Then the giddiness kicked in again . . . maybe the leftover candy I gave away started to take effect. My room somehow became the (loosely controlled) R&B/hip hop dance party. Then they became bored, impatient, and started complaining about dismissal procedures, etc. Interesting cycle of emotions, I must say.

It doesn't quite feel like summer yet, since we're still working this week. Even though I'm not planning lessons or grading or supervising athletic events, I still seem to find plenty of work to do. Why is it that the work seems to expand to fill the time?

It's funny, looking back now that the dreaded 1st year is over. Yes, it was hard, and challenging, and difficult. But I'm already starting to forget the worst moments, and the bright days shine a little brighter in my memory. I guess it's somehow comparable to childbirth; if mothers only remembered the pain of labor & delivery, the human race would quickly become extinct. Still, I hope the second year is easier . . . it will be, I'm convinced!

Surreal.

It’s a strange feeling, the end of the school year. All year long, I’ve tried to survive, basically wanting to make it through the end of this year. Everyone says the first year of teaching is the worst, so I’ve wanted to rush through it to see if it really will be better next year.

And now, with only 5 days left (4 ½, really!), I find myself wanting more time with my students, even the knuckleheads. I wonder if I really poured enough of myself into these kids. I know I can’t change their lives, but did I use my time with them well? I couldn’t have worked any harder. I definitely know that much. (If anything, I probably should have worked less & lived a little more.) But did I encourage them enough? Do my students realize how amazingly unique they are? Am I sending them off to high school well-prepared, or will they freak out in H.S. science & fail miserably? Is this how parents feel when they send their kids off to college?

I’ve looked forward to summer all year long. And I still can’t wait to REST, sleep, cook, travel, spoil my niece & nephew, and have a life. But I also find myself wondering, what will I think about? What will I do all day? What the heck will I talk about at social events? I’ll actually kind of (dare I say it?!) miss these kids, even the ones who drive me insane. Have I gone completely mad?? It’s a very strange situation, I’m finding.

On a happier, more conclusive note, my kids were so great on our field trip today. I was a bit anxious b/c we tried to take as many as possible, including our more challenging kids who haven’t been on a field trip this year. They did really well, even though the kids thought some of the tour guides “looked like leprechauns” (hey, at least they’re using descriptive language!) and it was 80 bazillion degrees on the bus coming home.

5 more days!!!

Eh?

Ugh . . . isn't Beth the one who died? I'm part of a dying breed, I suppose.

As seen at Phd Me

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