Back in the Salad Again

My school has a distinctive smell. I know the smell. It is the “school without kids in it yet” scent. It is the anticipation smell. It is the smell of possibility. I love going to school in the weeks before students arrive. I photocopy and decorate my classrooms. I get all the things I have packed away and pull them out again.

There are sad moments as well, as I realize that I won’t have last year’s groups. I miss them. I am delighted when familiar faces appear in the halls, and when new faces become familiar.

Getting ready to go back to school may be one of the most difficult transitions of the year. But transitions are one of the things that make being a teacher so joyful. Teaching is about working with people over time. Teaching is about change and embraces the transitions. We go. We go back. And each time we go back, we are all in a different place. Each time I enter my classroom, there are different children. Even day-to-day, my students grow, change, and develop. It is a beautiful and wonderful process.

It has been a good summer, and I have loved almost every minute of it. I am almost ready to return, and I am getting myself there. Recently, I got a glimpse of my class lists. Many of the kids I know. Many I know somewhat. Most I don’t know at all. I am excited to get to know them well. I am eager to learn with them.

New students and new things to study! I have rarely taught the same course for more than a few years in a row. It doesn’t matter much, because my lessons are never the same. In order to keep up with the kids, the lessons must change, too. Each summer I fuss with my curriculum. This summer, I gave one of my classes quite an overhaul. It is very different than it was last year. While there are texts I have taught for many years, they turn out very differently with each group of students. When I meet a class, I learn about them as individuals and a group. Even different sections of the same course end up with different lessons. They must! I need to tailor the course to the kids.

A few years ago, I was given a Freshman English class that was all male. No girls. I made a few adjustments in the texts (For example, I had been teaching A Midsummer’s Nights Dream; I went back to Romeo and Juliet), and then many adaptations to activities and lesson structures. The group needed more small group work, more physical movement, and this group loved reading aloud and enacting literature. So that’s what we did.

And once I get to know the kids, I can help them grow in new directions. Neither their strengths nor their struggles should be their prisons. I try to help students understand their current skill level and then teach them how to improve (or develop) those skills.

It is wonderful to reconnect with my colleagues. I have seen a few of them over the summer at workshops and meetings as well as at social events. Being away from each other for a little while lets me see them anew. There are new things to share: an engagement, a pregnancy, a new degree, a new home, and, of course, a new school year.

It is all thrown together: new kids, new tales, old colleagues with new news, updated curriculum, and all the energy and activity of the start of school. To twist the old Roy Rogers song, “I’m back in the salad again,” – and delighted to be there!

A Warning to College Profs from a High School Teacher

Educational reform has run amok in the United States. Our current education “programs” are destroying our children’s learning. This article articulates this beautifully. Please take a look:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/answer-sheet/wp/2013/02/09/a-warning-to-college-profs-from-a-high-school-teacher/

The College Journey Continues: A Partially Empty Nest

The house is quiet. My daughter is at college. My son is at camp. We have quick visits with my daughter on special weekends and winter break. Since she is doing college in three years, she does not come home for the summer. We have video chats, text messages, emails, and phone calls a few times a week. Soon, she leaves for Africa. My son lives here, but increasingly has his own schedule that depends less and less on his parents. Right now he, too, is away. Even when he is home, he only one wing in the nest.

I am adjusting to how much I see, or don’t see, my children. It is the right amount, but it is not what I would choose. I am fighting the over-parenting impulse. It isn’t easy.  

My busy life is distracting, and I have my own activities. Most of the time, I do not focus on the fact that my daughter is far away. Yet, she is on my mind. Frequently. When I see the blur that is my son, I must resist the urge to reach out and stop him!

My friends whose children have left the house say that, although they too missed their children initially, they came to really enjoy their empty nest. I am not there yet. I am delighted that my younger child still has a few years before college. And maybe I can’t fully appreciate the quiet with a child still living at home. Maybe I don’t want to.  

I am becoming a long distance parent. I am learning to hug via FaceTime. I am figuring out what it means to send a pithy text message with an emoticon to convey my feelings.

I will not keep my children dependent and sheltered. I do not want them to remain “children.”  However, I do want them to remain. This is really about our changing roles. This is about accepting and embracing my new role when I have been so comfortable and happy in the old one.

And this is about letting go. Having loved ones far away is challenging. I liked our relationship when the kids were younger. It didn’t need fixing or “time off.” I am still mourning that relationship, and working on liking the new version. It is where the relationship must go next to stay healthy. I know that. I am just not there yet.

That is what I keep telling myself. This is the right move. This is good for them. This is the natural way. I know this is only partially true. Many kids go to college closer to home. Some separate regardless of physical distance. Some stay very close (sometimes too close) when they are even farther away.

And my children are capable! They can handle problems without me. They do not need their father to rush to their rescue. I am not their only resource for assistance, and they are good at coming to me (or other people) when they need help.

As I face the reality of my children making their own “nests” and living a majority of their lives apart from me, I am living a kind of adolescence. My daughter is not a full-fledged adult out of the house. My son will soon have his driver’s license and need my help even less. But I have not full launched them into the world. This is a trial period; a training time. We are all learning and figuring out how this works. I hope we’ll get the hang of it by the time the nest is really empty and our younger child departs for college.