I sit here and think back to the end of the school year. I had just taken my fourteen files to the district office, wrote my last email to those parents thanking them (once again) for a fabulous year, and said my tearful goodbyes.
Next week, I will meet the new group. I follow my caseload through two years of middle school, 7th and 8th grade. We, together, learn how to mature and grow as adolescents and me, as an adult and teacher. There are always tears, demands, pressure, laughter, and always, in the end, I find more love and caring for those teenagers than I always believe I can. By the end of two years, I know their favorite foods, the parents names/addresses/jobs/marital status, how they learn best, what annoys them, and what excites them by heart.
I pride myself on this knowledge.
I'm sad that I won't see my usual smiling faces, but super excited for a new start. scared, but excited. I worry how my little (now) 9th graders will do, but I think I gave them some really extraordinary tools and a sprinkle of self confidence to work with. I hope, anyways.
I really hope to be the best teacher I can possibly be and to, in my small corner of the world, really help a student gather those tools for life, gain self confidence, and to find a love of school and learning.
"Each of us has a spark of life inside us, and our highest aspiration ought to be to set off that spark in one another." --Mark Albion (from Daily Good)
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