My Teacher's Union membership has officially expired. I have now given away a grand total of 11 boxes of teaching materials & supplies. Not to mention the 4 or 5 boxes of JUNK that I threw away. And definitely not to mention the 8 boxes of stuff that I'm keeping. God bless generous friends with large attics.
This morning I took the already loaded up car (you should have seen Kennan & I and 11 boxes all packed into our little Civic) to Bethune Elementary School, and dropped it all off. It was harder than I had expected, and harder than the sorting actually was.
Sorting wasn't easy, though. A LOT of memories. Especially when work has gotten weird lately (don't get me wrong; I love working with college students and sharing my heart with them; it's other things that are starting to wear), it was hard to go through things that reminded me somewhat of the happy times I had teaching. It was also hard to realize yet another way that I'm a statistic: the mortality rate of teachers. No, that's not a typo. It did feel like I was dead or dying most of the time!
But today, going to the school, seeing kids and teachers and secretaries, it was really hard. I do miss it. And I miss weird things. Even beyond the hugs and letters from kids and parents and friendships with my peers, I miss the way the light came through my classroom window (or trailer window) at certain times of the day. I miss the sound of my clock ticking (man, that thing was LOUD!) while the kids did silent, or mostly silent, reading. I miss the smell of the cafeteria (don't ask... because I don't know why; it's not like I ever ate there unless I had the misfortune to forget my lunch that day) and of sweaty kids fresh off the playground and I miss looking down at a perfectly nice white blouse that would be forevermore smudged with grubby little fingerprints. I learned pretty quick to stop wearing white to school.
So, the elementary school teacher chapter of my life is now officially closed, after 3 years teaching in a war zone (South Dekalb County) and a year off, working at the church. I'm a little sad, very introspective, and
RUNNING LATE! Crap! I have to go meet with a student! No time for a potty break! I guess some things never change. It's comforting, though.
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3 comments:
I guess the usual statistic is that a large number of new teachers leave the profesion in the first 3 years...
Mourning with ya, C.
Memories can be so amazingly powerful. Everytime I go home now I have to sort through my things, packing some up and giving some away; I'm growing up. It's poignant how things bring back so many memories. I've also been through three different colleges (I've transferred a lot!), and everything from a scent to a piece of music will bring memories flooding back - it's so bittersweet. I love where I am now in life, but in a way I miss where I was then, too.
I hadn't realized how much scents and lighting affect me even more than do sounds and sights in general. I love this time of year because of the lighting... the air is so golden it's almost auburn. I love it! While I was teaching, the change of seasons... along with football season! were my two consolation prizes for having to go back to school!
Yup. Definitely bittersweet memories.
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