It's the fourth quarter. Kids are shutting down, and I've got news for you, teachers are shutting down to. This doesn't mean that we're giving up and not teaching or doing our jobs, but it is getting harder to do them.
We don't have an easy job. We have to be "on" for at least eight hours a day and then go home and grade or make lesson plans. Yes, we may get time off during the summer, but I'm pretty sure I put in more hours during my nine months of work time than are in those 2.5 months I get off. But, when you keep those hours up for that long of time, your body starts to rebel. It's time for a break, it keeps yelling. We need it - physically and mentally.
But, the end of the year is rather bittersweet.
Sure, there are those kids that I'm ready to not have in my room again. But there are very few.
It's not easy to say good bye to those that I've really made connections with. Sure, I'll see them in the hallways, but I don't get to have those daily conversations or have them come up to my desk to chat about "THE BEST book EVER, Mrs. Knipper!"
So, I find myself drawing away from all of them. I think I do it to make it less painful.
I remember leaving Pensacola on my last day at school. My last class of the day was my favorite, and it was no secret. We had really bonded that year, and I loved all of them dearly. It was killing me to have to say good-bye and not get to see how they turned out and watch them on their life journey.
They felt the same way.
The bell rang.
They didn't leave.
Instead, they were still in a mass hug, clinging to me. And we were all teary eyed. I slowly shuffled with them to the door because I told them they couldn't miss the bus.
I wouldn't go out those doors with them, though. I couldn't handle it. I don't think they could handle it.
But, in all honesty, that's what teacher lives for every year. Those bonds are worth our crappy paychecks and the weekends lost to grading essays.
And it's what I need to remember every day when I step foot in that classroom and start the lesson for the day - no matter how hard it hurts at the end of May.
