It's super exciting. I love being a teacher. I remember telling Lynds how much I missed it the first semester of Grad school, during the annual bombardment of facebook with first day of school posts. I questioned everything, because it took being away to realize how much I adore this profession. I adore teaching, I adore Carter Riverside, I adore the kids I teach. Every single one of them (I take that back, there are some goobers). So I guess I adore most of the kids. But if time has shown me anything, it's that the kids who are irritating as hell, sometimes, turn into amazing adults whom I'm incredibly proud to have given my small "This one's ok-ish" stamp. And if you wonder, yes, I'm always honest: aka "you were a shithead in HS, who would have thunk you'd be doing what you're doing." This is a good move in my life. I think teaching will provide rigidity and the selfless constitution I need to get back to.
It's a weird space for me. As are most things I guess. It's strange, at some point someone told me "you never get better, you just get different." I don't know if truer words have ever been spoken. My classroom is the same as when I left teaching four years ago. I open the door of my Learning Cottage (It's not a portable classroom if it's been there for 40 years), and remember LJ sitting on the railing of the walkway with lunch she brought me. I remember the kids telling me how she was totally out of my league. I remember putting up whiteboards Lynds and I bought because the district refused to give me any. My classroom bears witness to the orange wall she and I painted in order to spice up my classroom. I have the same coaching complaints I had years ago, but don't have her to muse about them anymore. I mowed the practice field today (yup, in FWISD the coaches are responsible for mowing our own fields...), and thought about how happy it would make her when I would mow our yard in New Hampshire. It reminds me of the days of my American Dream.
Being a teacher is an honor. I had an offer to run a retail store for twice what I will make teaching, and I had to make the calls to CRHS to try one last time to be a teacher again. I thought about the response I would have to give if I worked retail. I am proud of my profession, and I'll take making less and being able to say "I'm a teacher" anyday. If I'm totally honest, I'm terrified of being back in the classroom. It's been four years. Do I have it in me anymore? I've lost the energy, care and ability to cope with so many things in my life. I don't play board games anymore. I can count the number of times I've cooked a meal since she died on one hand. God I hope teaching is different. I know it will be. I have always thrived. I will always thrive. I refuse to be defined by tragedy. She wouldn't have let me. I'm nervous of the question "Yo Coach, are you married?" But I refuse to hide anything from my kids. If asked in a respectful way, I do not believe there are any inappropriate questions. Creative answers? Yes, but no hiding, lying or being upset with questions. So what is my response going to be. Honesty... Is it a reality that I may lose my shit if a kid asks the right questions on the right day? Absolutely. It's ok to be human, especially when many students never realize that teachers have feelings/lives/exist outside of school.
I have more to say, but I worked 15 hours yesterday and 8 today, I'm nowhere near as eloquent as I like to be, and I have stuff that I should be doing for class on Monday. Suffice it to say that I have amazing people and colleagues in my life. I feel loved. I feel supported. I feel happy with my new (old?) job. It's time to rebuild my shattered American Dream. Hopefully this is the first step... It has to be.
