What I Did

I've been thinking back on my year. It has been a whirlwind of Crazy! New curriculum, new schedule, four classes of seventh graders instead of my normal schedule of eighth graders ... plus I have my own family and the two crazy children who live in my house ... it's a lot. There are many days I can barely drag out of bed, many days I feel guilty for not being a stay-at-home mom, many days when I'm counting down the days to the break. Despite all of that, though, I am one of the lucky ones who loves my job.

I get to watch an entire group of kids mature, grow, and change over the 36 weeks they are in my class. How cool is that? They come so young and weird but leave just a little more mature ... especially my eighth graders. They do a LOT of growing up during that year before high school. Maybe it's being the oldest class, maybe it's the very real light at the end of the middle school tunnel; maybe it's just turning 14 (or ... ahem ... 15). Whatever it is, I don't care. It's neat to watch and a real blessing for their parents.

Everyday I ask 121 students to think. Not to sit in front of a TV. Not to play video games. Not to text with their friends. I get to ask them to really, truly think. I get to frustrate them and irritate them and ask them to do things that would infuriate any adult ... and I get paid to do it. In fact I am encouraged to do it and provided with resources to make sure each day is extra mind-boggling. So. Awesome. If anyone else hounded kids as much as I am encouraged to do everyday they'd be hit with a harassment charge. As a bonus, the next day I get to say something like, "Remember that really hard thing we did yesterday that had you banging your head on the desk? Today we're going to do that again, but now you're going to do it on your own!" Really, it makes me smile because who else gets to do that? Who gets to challenge kids like that. Teachers, that's who. Teachers who give up their Saturdays and weekends to go to performances/games to cheer on kids they didn't even give birth to. Teachers who take care of your kids AND their own kids. Teachers who love what they do, love your kids, and love watching them grow.

And at the end of every year, it's a giant empty nest syndrome. Don't get me wrong; there are some kids I will happily escort out the door on that last day. But most of them make me cry because they move on to high school and get all grown up and I don't even recognize them and they [think] they don't need me anymore. They are brand new people. And I had a hand in that ... even if only for a moment.