Monday, May 23, 2005
Wow. It is almost all over for the second time. I can't believe that First Year Teacher is finishing up her second and is all set to start a third.
For years and years I worried that I would never find anything that I wanted to do for any length of time. I am so antsy all the time-- always looking towards the next thing, feeling panicky and trapped if things stay the same for too long. I thought that I might end up one of those drifter types who have really cool stories but not very many close friends.
But, man, teaching really fits. Education, anyway. I may branch out eventually. But I love the schedule of being a teacher-- it allows for me to always be looking towards the next thing. The next lesson, unit, semester, class.
My job as a teacher is my happiest thing right now. And I have never been the type to focus much on my jobs. But when I go in to work I feel competent. And now that the kids have really bonded with me, I feel loved.
At Field Day I allowed myself to relax a little. In doing that, I had more fun than I expected. My team teacher and I couldn't get the kids to leave us alone and go play. They buzzed around us like flies, asking us to sign their yearbooks and shirts, telling us stories, asking us to watch them do this or that. It was really endearing and it showed me how much they liked us. I think it is sweet how many inside jokes I have with my kids. I am really going to miss them.
This is the pain of the 8th grade teacher. I only have one year and then they go away. Some will visit next year, but mostly they will move on. But I also get to be all proud when they go to their big dances and their graduation celebration.
Four more days...
Why is it that fun for the students usually means nightmare for teachers?
Today is the 8th grade Field Day where all of the kids get to go out on the field and play games like tug of war and one-legged races. They are so excited.
What that means to me is 3 hours in the full sun screaming at boys to stop touching girls and screaming at girls to stop going behind the bleachers with boys. Screaming, of course, because the field is huge.
Heaven help me.