Every August, I hate letting go of summer.... weeks and weeks of staying up until 2am listening to the hi-fi, then waking up whenever I want and doing whatever I want. School starts and suddenly my life is dictated by bells and schedules and meetings and mountains of papers to grade. Summer seems so far away, and then...
The year revs up, my classes take on distinct personalities, and the papers I have to grade seem less like a chore and more like a badge of honor. I start getting to know you as people, and these fantastic relationships develop. Report cards go out and I start meeting your parents. Football season, homecoming, marching band and the first dance of the year give us all something to rally around. By October I start feeling like less of a fraud and more like a teacher. Fall Break comes and as glad as I am for the time off, I miss my classroom. This is also when I first start to feel behind, like I am not teaching fast enough or thoroughly enough or GOOD enough.
November arrives. My colleagues and I start spending more and more time hiding out in our rooms after school, brainstorming and ranting, laughing, crying, praying that the next vacation will come so we can sleep already. I'm not just your teacher anymore. I have become an ally, a confidant, an enemy, a parole officer, a mom, the bad guy, the good guy, supplier of pens and paper, counselor, friend.
Now it's Thanksgiving, and ham, and weight gain, and football. By December we are certain that summer will never get here. We know we will die in a classroom, and the police will find me propped in front of my computer, clutching a red pen and a stack of workbooks and timed writings to grade. We never want to see another textbook again, we never want to conjugate another verb again. We ask ourselves why in the world we have such a complicated semester exam and then....
January arrives in a cloud of frozen wintry mix; the promise of snow days and bad weather creates an electricity in the air. We all kind of resign ourselves to the fact that we're in a classroom... for five more months. We bundle up, we all get strep throat, we schlep hot chocolate and cough drops around with us. You get your GPAs, you take the first round of TAKS exams and by March, we all hear ourselves saying, "Man, this year has gone by FAST! I can't believe it's March!"
Spring Break brings decent weather, except for this year... when it SNOWED right before Spring Break. We are shocked at how pale our skin is in the sunlight after months of wool coats and long sleeves. The bulk of the year is over. We've got two and a half more months to teach and learn volumes of information. Birds sing, tulips bloom. The water in the pool is still too cold and the air is chilly at night. We return to school and all the kids in the building are suddenly older. You are two months away from being sophomores.
The six weeks between Spring Break and the Math TAKS whiz by, and I never remember them. Ever. I know I spent the time teaching. I know we had a good time in class. But I can't for the life of me remember what went on otherwise. All I have is my gradebook and scads of email, which prove that yes, I was there. But what happened? What did I say? Did anyone listen? And then...
April is over. May's here. Time for the final panic attack of the year.
Did I teach this verb? Have I covered direct object pronouns? Wait, was I supposed to do ALL of Chapter 7 or just the first section? Should I go ahead and try to teach object pronouns with reflexive verbs? Have I taught enough? Have they learned enough? Did I do a good job this year?
At last it is June. We've waited for it all year. We wanted school to be out, remember? But now the time is passing too quickly. I am tired of teaching because it isn't Spanish that matters anymore, it's YOU. I've come to depend on our jokes, our conversations, your personalities, this web page. I don't want to spend this week doing semester exams!! I want to spend it hearing Vrana ask yet another question, or watching Jaeyoon read Korean versions of his books. I want Josh to learn how to draw a proper frog, and listen to Gaby pronounce one-syllable words. I want Joyce and Tyler to keep chasing the elusive 100 average in my class. I want Jesus G. to tell us more about racial inequality. I want to see Valerie to make two carpetas for every chapter. I want to watch Chelsea freak out about one of my exams again. I want to watch Nick take notes.
And I really, REALLY want to hear Kevin say, "I'm done arguing!"
Spanish? It's just a vehicle for the memories, people. In five days, room E109 will be silent and empty. But this thing we've got going doesn't stop here. I will always be your teacher. Ask my former students who are now working on (and finishing) their master's degrees. They still email me. They still call me Mrs. Holmes. The deep thoughts and crazy observations, the talks, the celebrations and rants march on, and once again...
Summer comes. Thank you all for a great year!
