I have been a teacher for twenty-five years now. At the end of every school year, I look back at the journey this profession has taken me on and I am continuously left in wonder. Some years have left me emotionally and physically drained. Most have left me humbled and grateful. Only one time have I gotten to the point where if I had another year like the one just finished I knew I would have to walk away. I’m not going to lie, probably the biggest benefit is that you get to start completely fresh each year. Every year has found me planning for the next. Which lesson went ary, which did the students love? That’s right: even after all these years, no two years have ever been exactly the same. Teaching is an art, pure and simple. That needs to be remembered.
No matter how organized you may be, the end of the year is always hectic for teachers. There are tests to administer, books to track down, records to update, grades to record, forms to file, progress reports to write, and everything is due yesterday. Days are interrupted with assemblies, orientations, Crash Days, scheduling, Fun Days, and Awards not to mention the occasional field trip. Everything is due, but there is no time to do it in! The key to survival is flexibility.
There is something so satisfying to see my class library shelves filled and neatly organized, to purge my files of resources long forgotten or outdated. But the part that always makes me hesitate is when I clean out the binders in which I keep the student surveys for my individual conferencing throughout the year. Kids come into D147 as complete strangers to me, and I to them. We’ve spent one hundred and eighty days together. We’ve shared our writing, we’ve shared our opinions, we’ve shared our stories, and slowly we’ve all become a family. Strangers have become my extended children who I now know by their voice around the corner, their stride from down the hall, their laughter ringing through the room, their words on a page.
I would not be so arrogant to say that I have made an impression on every single one of my students. Not even by a long shot! It is the occassional note that you get that keeps you inspired to keep going. Let this be a note to all of the teachers out there: you make a difference. You are important. Our work should not be at a cost to our well-being so take care of yourself.
No matter how organized you may be, the end of the year is always hectic for teachers. There are tests to administer, books to track down, records to update, grades to record, forms to file, progress reports to write, and everything is due yesterday. Days are interrupted with assemblies, orientations, Crash Days, scheduling, Fun Days, and Awards not to mention the occasional field trip. Everything is due, but there is no time to do it in! The key to survival is flexibility.
There is something so satisfying to see my class library shelves filled and neatly organized, to purge my files of resources long forgotten or outdated. But the part that always makes me hesitate is when I clean out the binders in which I keep the student surveys for my individual conferencing throughout the year. Kids come into D147 as complete strangers to me, and I to them. We’ve spent one hundred and eighty days together. We’ve shared our writing, we’ve shared our opinions, we’ve shared our stories, and slowly we’ve all become a family. Strangers have become my extended children who I now know by their voice around the corner, their stride from down the hall, their laughter ringing through the room, their words on a page.
I would not be so arrogant to say that I have made an impression on every single one of my students. Not even by a long shot! It is the occassional note that you get that keeps you inspired to keep going. Let this be a note to all of the teachers out there: you make a difference. You are important. Our work should not be at a cost to our well-being so take care of yourself.
