Grand Finale 2006

10...9...8...you get the rest. The count down ends the last day of school. Backpacks fly, kids scream, teachers sigh a major breathe of relief....ahhh....the sweet smell of summer.

One of the best things about teaching is the momentum. Everyday is something.

I wrote this exactly a year minus three weeks ago. That's how long its been since I visited this blog and my main reason for revisting was to check out my friends sonograms of her baby almost due to be born 10 days later now born!

This teaching year has been a crunch. A quick turn of page. By the end of the year and at the beginning of the year, I always say it is my last year. Must be part of the ebb and flo because ultimately it never is. It used to be easier before tenure and before I found a district that actully pays well and that somewhat respects me as a professonal. I often wonder if anyone else gets to have the same waxing and waning about their job - must be the timeline of the year that allows, we, the techers, to really think about our "place in life" and the career that "never sleeps".

When the year starts I am all fresh like the smell of new box of crayolas or a crisp notebook with unturned pages. By the last month of the year I am torn and rumpled like a students' notebook -- a notebook like I stuffed in an envelope and returned to a spoiled student this week. It was "unacceptable". Of course, bring the nitty little 8th grader this student is, he fought me every inch of the way stating his claim that I should be able to read his notebook wether it is cryptic or not. He'll be a great lawyer or doctor someday but at this point, I just want him to go away. But that is another story....It is like I plan on preparing during the year to make an exit and then I don't. Because the year sucks me in and I can't find the space in my mind or day to figure out where I could go next. Afterall, this isn't my first career....and that's another story too. Regardless, I've placed my 8th grade class in high school bootcamp, or so I tell them, the last three weeks of school and this means I won't accept any $$%^&* or any $%^&* and it seems to be working, that and the stash of jolly ranchers and the bright pink bathroom passes -- both of which they have to either beg, barter, or steal to receive ..oh and not to forget, the coveted homework passes that kids have actually stayed after school and dusted the room for - who have I become? Who have they become? Is this the same spirit kicking Berkeley graduate liberal that I so honored? Is this really a democracy or have I unknowingly become a tyrant? Regardelss, it is amazing what a jolly rancher can do ...in a pinch.

This year I switched from teaching 6th grade to 8th grade and it was like going from the petting zoo right to the lions den. I mean, there is no inbetween. From the minute I walked in the door deep voices spewed spit and zits were seeping from the surface of once dewy, rosy, and innocent faces. "What is this? The night of living dead?" I think as I straighten a skirt I swore I would throw out the year before "hell, teacher clothes, one more year..."As I greet the lil' darlings each day, I ritualistically stick out my hand to shake theirs thinking that this small gesture could be the connection that will make both mine and their day! And perhaps will make our worlds seem a little less huge. Instead, I used every sick day plus. I couldn't have been much sicker. But luckily, the 8th graders, unlike the 6th, did tell me when I should or should not shake their hand," uh, my hand is gross, you really don't want to shake this..." or they would make a robotic notion so I couldn't get get a hold or pull an old slapstick routine sticking a hand out and quickly pulling it back to slick down hair....if it wasn't this they would try to tell me how to shake, or give me a high five or even bow to me in a strange buddha/Puff Daddy way.

No matter where they sat in the classroom, the little angels could talk enough talk to power a small town. Early on in the year, I forgot to say all the things I should have like, "I am here to be your teacher, not your friend" or "That is NOT OK" and "OUTSIDE" with a quick point of my index finger to the left. I didn't get started soon enough so the dreaded "...."th period everyday ate me alive. I felt bad for the 3/4 of the kids both girls and Asian boys who really were top students. They listened, seemed to care about their work, and really made an effort. But the lack luster, skinny, handsome, and well, NEEDy causcasian sports group - all ended up in this class and for some reason, they just couldn't fgure out to make it work. One, who really was the king pin, had such a big mouth that when I mentioned his name to other teachers they would roll their eyes "Oh, I remember him" or kids "He is rude and unkind" even his mother said he was a neandrathal at home and she was sorry I had to put up with him! But that didn't stop him. I don't think his mouth closed the entire year. Not that he wasn't a capable student - straght A's but oi vey! What a mouth!


Overall , the kids weren't too bad, I had many days when I felt good about teaching, laughed a bit, and walked away with a pang of love in my heart. Unfortunately, the real culprit would then start -- the department meetings... really, the kids aren't all that bad, its the clad of "folks" in my department, who love to talk about what great things they are teaching (been there done that) and how "The kids can't write" keep in mind they say this to a room of their collegeus, but what the heck, only they can teach so really the kids can't write, right?

I am sure a lot of my angst has to do with the end of the year blues....exhaustion and preparation for graduation.....who knows, after tomorrow, I might feel differently....