I try to soak these last days in. It's hard because there is the usual end of year flurry of testing, entering scores online, paperwork and whathaveyou. It distracts from my view of watching the eyes of my students as they continue to discover something wonderful in each passing minute.I've been with this group of children and parents for two years and they feel like my family.They've ridden with me down the long and winding road since D's death, and they are forever imprinted on my heart. I'm thankful that I'm going out on a high note. Not that there has ever been a low note for me in teaching.
I'm awed because I know it was God's plan for me all along to be a teacher. I knew I'd be one when I was six years old, and have always felt like He led me down the path toward my first classroom. A classroom that included 38 fifth graders in an open area that included three other classes. I was in my early 20s and I loved it immediately. After almost 500 students, 10 campuses and untold colleagues, teaching is still a job I look forward to every day.
I spent hours this weekend beginning to sort out my classroom belongings. I had several piles going at once: one for the daughter of a friend who wants to teach early elementary, one for the daughter of another friend who is finishing her first years of teaching second grade. Another pile was of new books I stockpile each month through our classroom book order for two sweet girls who are in college studying to be teachers.
But the best pile? My favorite books held back for future grandchildren. (Married Daughter: no pressure.)
I halfway expected to be emotional during this task. I found that the excitement of my new job as principal outweighed any lingering loss or sadness. I did find myself thinking of this song often:
"Packing up the dreams God planted,
In the fertile soil of you,
Can't believe the hopes He's granted,
Means a chapter in your life is through..."
Looking forward to new chapters and new challenges. Pressing on.