It’s June 18th, and I have one week left of being a teacher.
Today would have been the end of this school year if it hadn’t been for all the snow. It’s hard to believe we were actually scheduled to go this late into June – one of those awful school board decisions that makes me grit my teeth.
(Although no mere calendar decision could be as horrible as their recent resolution to fire all our custodians – some of whom have worked for our district for decades – and to hire an outside service to save money, which they’re using to promote several administrators. Yes, they are putting our lowest paid employees out of work and giving raises to the highest paid ones.)
This year has been filled with so many aggravations, disappointments, and outrages, there’s no doubt in my mind I made the right decision to resign. But there have also been wonderful moments with my students, and as I sort through everything in my classroom, I’m dredging up 25 years worth of memories.
Here’s a picture of me with some of my students in my first year of teaching, circa 1989.
The connections I have made with students, parents, and fellow teachers over this quarter of a century far outweigh the bad stuff of recent years. I’ll have plenty of time after the resignation/retirement takes place to write about Common Core, EVAAS, and the deluge of testing. (Yes, I plan to use this blog to explain Why I Had to Leave.)
In my final week, I need to savor the good things.
Here’s a picture of me with some of my students last Saturday at the local library. They came out to celebrate the Summer Reading Kick-off and the release of The Eighth Day.
My oh-so-critical eye sees every one of the 25 years between the younger me and this one. But even I have to admit the smile is the same. I love my students. I will miss them.