I awoke this morning to the excitement of my seventh first
day of school as an educator. Seven late summers of frantic preparation. Seven
rounds of teacher in-service. Seven times of being joyfully reunited with colleagues
as if we hadn’t seen each other in decades. Seven glimpses of fresh young faces
that are happy or scared or just plain lost. Seven opportunities to ooh and
ahhh over new clothes and unicorn backpacks and shoes that light up like the
Vegas strip. Seven years witnessing Kindergartners trying not to cry (and failing).
And the parents of said Kindergartners also trying to hold it together with about
the same results.
I love it all.
I love the hum of energy in the air. I love the way
classrooms don’t yet smell like sweaty prepubescent boys fresh from PE or the sun-soaked
playground. I love the shiny, waxed hallway floors. I love the Pinterest-driven
classroom themes. I love the sweet hugs from returning students and the
optimism that exudes from the same teachers that were on the ragged edge of
burnout just twelve short weeks ago.
These are the threads that are just beginning to be woven
into the tapestry of a new school year. Some of that fabric will be beautiful
and bring joy. Some will break our hearts. But it will be our collective story
and we will be forever intertwined because of it.
I am amazed at where this teaching journey has taken me in
those seven years. From classroom teacher to remediation interventionist/instructional
strategist, and now this Fall my new role as our district’s Literacy
Coordinator, overseeing a federal grant that will boost literacy in our
community from birth to grade 12. I am very, very (very, very, very, very,
very) excited about this stunning opportunity to impact literacy on a large
scale. Excited (and a little terrified).
I cannot fail to mention the love of my teaching heart,
Project Armchair. Thirty volunteers and 2,000+ books donated and given away to
children in crisis in the last three years. It continually amazes and humbles
me. Such an unexpected and beautiful part of my journey!
Each switchback in my career has been the stepping stone for
the next thing. Each major decision an open door to an unknown hallway. When I
entered the college classroom again in my late forties with the hair-brained
idea of starting a new career in teaching, I had no idea where it would all
lead. But God did, and I am grateful. Grateful to have a purpose for this stage
of my life. Grateful to have intersected with so many truly wonderful and warm
people along the way. Grateful for a life partner that encourages hair-brained
ideas (I love you, sweetheart!)
May this year be the most beautiful tapestry yet.
