Is always assumed to be the favorite time of the year for teachers, but not for me, really. I enjoy each part, and think that I am a teacher because I especially like the beginning of the year, and the introduction of concepts, and the moments of connections. Prior to current knowledge, yes, and the moment when a child realizes you are actually, truly, their advocate. And then, when they are your advocate. This year, at the passing of my father, the children in my class looked at me, and to me. They gave me notes cheering me on. I hope someday to live up to the expectations of children.
Each year I find that there is so much more I wanted to do, and gaps that I had hoped to fill. And each year the community assures me of some success. “This year, it was like a dream. Like a story,” a generous parent said yesterday.
Organizing a school year into something of a narrative is actually an ambition of mine. Creating sense and order would not be the first impression a person might get from my classroom, but to have a parent say that in the wake of this year- that is nice to hear.
My kiln is just about white-hot, now. another 200° and it will be there. I’m firing a raven I made for a student who memorized Poe’s “The Raven”. Just one of the many amazing accomplishments achieved this year. An outstanding year, with amazing young people, and acknowledging the end of the little dance I get to have each year as a teacher is always bitter sweet.