Teaching has some qualities about it that are unique.
Today—for better or worse, as with every year before—was one of those unique-to-teaching days.
The kids left.
They’re not coming back until July. (We’re on a modified year-round calendar in my district.) The oldest ones aren’t coming back at all.
Every year, the clock starts on the first day and runs relentlessly to the end. TV timeouts only. No stopped play for fouls, for rule book consultation, for rowdy fans.
Sometimes, you had a great school year with this crop and you’re sad to see them go.
Some years, time can’t run out fast enough. The mix of personalities or the way you and they work together (or don’t) can make even the simplest of tasks grueling.
But every year ends, whether happy or sad, and in a handful of weeks, we get to start over, to try again, a little bit wiser than we were before.
We get “new years” twice a year—once by the calendar and once by the school year. What a privilege!
My brain is busy with ideas of how I want to start the year next year—the beginning is critical because it sets the tone—and I’m grateful to have the opportunity to try again.
