Well, we blinked and it was August. Here we are again, just a week and a half until school starts. Summer is waning. Today is officially my last day of summer break.
I have done this a few times. This is the beginning of my 20th year of teaching. That is a miracle in and of itself, but much of the miracle is that I am going to be going back after the rollercoaster of a year we had last school year. A few of my fellow teachers at my school aren't. Many in this profession have chosen to walk away.
I feel it. I understand all the reasons one would leave these days. We are different; the kids are different. Our capability to deal with stress is weakened. Our sense of care is dwindling. And the saddest part about this all is that we had a summer, it was quick, even too quick to mend the exhaustion of last year, yet most of us trudge back.
Granted, I am almost 20 years into my retirement and that has a big play in all of this, yet it isn't the only reason I am going back. I still care about these kids. I still am motivated by helping them see potential and their own ability. I still have hope that we will get through this never-ending, fear packed pandemic. I still feel like teens need me. They need my strength and my patience. They need to hear my voice cheering for them and quieting their self-doubt. They need to hear that fear isn't the answer and that we get to choose to be happy here and now. They need hope. They need to see a demonstration of perseverance and survival.
So, I will set my alarm tonight. I will sit through hours of meetings that usually make me sleepy and I will look for the glimmers of usefulness. I will focus the next week and a half on getting into the mindset of teacher. I will wait for them to again walk the halls. Souls on the brink of adulthood and seeking direction and inspiration. I will go. I will fake it until I make it. I will be there. Here's to the 2021-2022 school year. Here's to hope. Here's to perseverance.
