Today, May 30th, is the last day of the school year for me. The students last day was last Thursday, the 24th. I’ve spent the last few days finishing grades (for the most part, they were good), cleaning my room (it’s amazing how messy things can get in nine months time), packing things up (it’s amazing how many things teachers accumulate over the course of twenty years), and attending meetings here and there (yuck!). Now I sit in an empty classroom looking at thirty empty desks that once were occupied by a total 124 students over the course of the day during the past school year, most of whom were reluctant to do much of anything beyond looking at their phones. Most of these students were willing to put aside the latest snapchat, or a game of Fortnight, or the text from their friends about where they were going to go for lunch if you asked them to and at least indulge your request that they learn about the Iranian Hostage Crisis or the nuances of the New Deal. I look at my classroom walls which are wallpapered in various historical photos, old newspapers with blaring headlines, political cartoons drawn for me by past students, and senior pictures of former students I’ve had over the past twenty years. For nine months out of the year, these walls contain almost constant noise of bustling students busily shuffling papers and excitedly talking with their friends, my yelling as I describe the horrors of trench warfare, the buzz of students as they work (or often times- not really work) in groups as they grapple with the complexities of the Great Depression, as well as my rap that I recite when another war is imminent. But now the walls contain silence save for the gentle tapping of my keyboard. The hallways outside my classroom walls, often a cacophony of sound as students hurrying- or not so much- to class or the bathroom is as silent as the grave with the occasional sounds of teachers walking by and the muffled laughter emanating from unknown classrooms as teachers trade humorous stories. Other than that, the only sound within the school is the constant low hum of the air conditioning that only seems to cool the air in the hallway of the second floor of the school and not the oven that the classrooms become.
I will spend my summer recharging from the sixty-plus hour work weeks I routinely put in during the school year. I will spend time with my family and in doing so, remember why my life is so good. I will read- a lot- so that I will have more stories and antidotes for my lessons next year. Shortly after my birthday in the middle of July, my thoughts will begin to turn to what is coming soon and I will begin planning for the 2018-2019 school year. Redesigning lessons, rearranging units, creating new approaches to old topics. Soon August will arrive and with it, the beginning of a new school year.
August brings both welcome and unwelcome changes to the summer routine. I do look forward to going back to school. I tend to get bored during the summer. I will become reacquainted with fellow teachers as we regale one another with our various summer adventures. I will meet and welcome new teachers either to the profession or the school. A new roster of new students will greet me as I open my Campus App on my computer. Copies will need to be made as a fresh new year approaches. These are the welcome changes. The unwelcome changes? Well, those are easy to point out; meetings, meetings, meetings, oh and did I mention meetings? Meetings outlining all of the great new stuff that will revolutionize education and rocket us forward in ways never thought possible. The greatest innovations in education… at least until next year when we will be informed that the old ways no longer worked and these new ways are the way to go. New teachers are eager and excited, hanging on every word and phrase, furiously taking notes they know will transform their teaching. "Experienced" teachers eyes glaze over from the new phraseology for old, tired tactics. They pensively look at other seasoned teachers as if to say 'Can the students come back today? Please?' Soon enough the hallways come alive again with the shouts and giggles of incoming Freshman who are hopelessly lost, Sophomores who are thankful they are no longer Freshmen, Juniors who are content they have lasted this long and know the end is around the corner, and Seniors who believe May can't get here soon enough. My empty desks will once again be filled with students who are all at once excited to be back in school with their friends and favorite teachers while at the same time upset that one of their last truly great summers has come to a close. The bell will ring and I will once again stand in front of fresh young students, glowingly bronzed from a summer of enjoyment and say to them "Welcome to American History. The story of how you and everything you know around you came to be." With that, a new school year will begin. And we will again be hurtling down a path that we can't predict or foresee except that it will once again end in silence and alone in our collective classrooms at the end of May.
Education is very unique in that it is one of the few professions out there that has a very definite beginning and a very definite end. Often times those beginnings and endings are hectic, frustrating, stressful, and not-so-pretty. But I can honestly say that I have never not enjoyed either the beginning or the end. Both are exciting, fun and enjoyable for different reasons. And I absolutely love what takes place in between the beginning and the end. The summers are nice too, jus' sayin'... People have begun to ask me how much longer I have until retirement. Not sure what that means; do I look older than I really am? Are they secretly hoping that I'm close to retirement? Not sure. My response is always the same; "I have at least ten more years before I can retire. However, if, in ten years, I still enjoy what I'm doing and I still feel that I am effective in the classroom, then I may have another fifteen or twenty years left in me." I believe most teachers think the same way although they may not always feel that way.
For my non-educator friends, I want them to know that teachers do not go into education for June, July, and August. That really is not a consideration of most teachers. Most go into education because they are eternal optimists, who believe that the future is bright and that they can help mold and shape the future for the better. Teachers believe that what they do is important and that what they do matters. In pursuing those halcyon dreams, teachers are also willing to accept frustrations and resistance- trust me, it is often a herculean effort getting thirty kids to do something that they really would rather not.
For my educator friends, enjoy the silence and the solitude. Soon the noise and commotion will return.
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