I found out about ten days ago that my job in my school is going to change. Inside the school is housed a speciality center for the gifted and talented students. On the Friday before Spring Break, I learned that I was going to be teaching the 10th grade sections of this specialty center starting next school year.
I nearly fell through the floor when I learned this.
That week was a constant cycle from incredible moment to incredible moment. I had a wonderful birthday to have that followed up by Teacher of the Year to be followed up by “We would like you to teach Math-Sci 10 next year.”
I have to admit, it took me about a week to finally accept what was going to happen, not because I was upset. But I was so completely shocked at all the events which had been happening in my life. Daily, someone in my school greets me with “Hello, Teacher of the Year” and I still have to take a moment to realize that they are talking to me. Who knew that receiving your dream would be such a surreal experience?
In going and starting the process of transitioning to working in this new environment, I have already been going through meetings with my new team members and working with the current teacher who is preparing to start a new job. In going down the halls and seeing my new classroom and peeking into one colleague’s room and seeing my future students, I still feel like I’m struggling to hold onto puzzle pieces that don’t fit with my life.
I didn’t realize that when I was going to stand next to myself that I was going to see a new person looking in the mirror at me.
The support of my colleagues as I prepare to pack up my room and move down a couple of halls is incredible. It’s not that I thought my colleagues were a bunch of hard-hearted, evil wretches. I’m just used to doing things on my own. And everyone keeps on stepping up and telling me that they have confidence in me, confidence in my skills.
I’m not always great with change. I love my sense of stability, no matter how artificial or superficially constructed it might be. I love the fact that as much as I hate routine, I have created one that is about to be turned on its head and spun.
At the same time, I have a new classroom that will look out upon the sunrise every morning.
I love sunrises. I love the hope they offer, the moment of beauty before the day begins and brings with it the trials, the tribulations, the tempests.
Or the joys and blessings which can be unfurled just as easily.
Today, I was working with a darling class of students and I realized that I will see them only a dozen times before the year will conclude.
Twelve more spins on my merry-go-round before I bid them good-bye one more time. Only twelve or so more rounds of “Love you! Mean it!”
And then the merry-go-round is going to radically shift but I will still be there, pushing the button and waving at the shy child who is scared of coming out of his/her shell. By the fifth revolution, the little hand will fold and unfold and fold and unfold in a mechanical wave. But the smile will be genuine. And so will mine.
Today, I confessed to my students that the reason why I went into teaching was because I wanted to be a writer and needed a way to pay my bills. I wasn’t ready for the complete and utter love I would feel when I am working with a group of students whose personality meshes just right with mine. I try to love my students, regardless of whether or not they are “good workers.” Some students are harder to love than others. Some students have defied my ability to care for them. Well…maybe one student. I can’t really think of others whom I would rather never see again.
Regardless, my job is to teach. Not whom I teach. Not even so much what I teach. My job is to stand in front of a classroom and deliver information to a group of people and try to make it sound interesting.
And no matter what I do or where I go, I will find my niche and will discover the secret joy that was living there all along.
Yeah, I’m guess I am ready for this change. I will some elements about my current position.
I will not miss some elements as well.
But, little one who is shyly waving at me, I was shy too. I’m still shy sometimes, but I think we’re going to be okay together. Keep on waving, little one. Keep on waving. I’m on my way.