The End of the Year

I'm closing out my seventeenth year of teaching this week. This time of year is surreal. Teachers, students, and parents alike are all scrambling to figure out how to manage the transition into summer and the massive shift in routine that comes with it. But teachers have the added crazy of extreme busyness (closing out the year comes with a checklist of items, most with hard deadlines, while trying to manage "it's almost summer" behavior from their students) followed by nothingness.

My checklist this year feels more manageable than I am used to. Tomorrow is the official last day of school, and I may be able to check out of the room before I leave tomorrow. I have to sign report cards, store the AV equipment, and my own cleaning left to do - the stuff the students can't help with. Of course there's more I could do. There's always more that could or should be done.

I'd really like to go through and purge the materials I know I'll never use, the stuff that's been accumulating in the space through many previous teachers, but I'm not sure that's actually doable this June. I have to wait for the music teacher to move out of the space that will be given to the incoming sixth grade teacher before giving her the sixth grade materials. Once I get the materials that aren't even for my grade level out of the way I can begin organizing in earnest - which likely means I won't be doing any of that until next June. Even if I plan to do it in August, I know from experience that it will be unlikely I will find the time.

Most teachers spend the entire school year, from the days in August when they are setting up their classrooms, feeling behind. We say to each other, "I'll be caught up in June." Spending nine months feeling like there is always something you should be doing followed by having nothing that has to be done urgently leaves many teachers feeling out of sorts this time of year. I've decided the best way to deal with this enormous transition is to book travel immediately after school gets out. I know traveling is difficult, or possibly not even an option, for many teachers who live paycheck to paycheck or have summer jobs. But I came to this conclusion when I personally avoided the beginning of summer teacher doldrums when end of the school year travel was thrust upon me two summers in a row.

One of those years I was travelling to see my grandmother one last time, and be there for my dad when she died. The other one was for summer professional development that was cool enough that the conflict with the last day of school (I left for Space Camp three days before the end of the school year) was a minor detail. Last year I met a teacher friend from another state in Las Vegas for a couple of nights. This year, I'm headed to Japan with my family. If you did the math, you already know it took me over a decade to realize immediate travel is a great way for me to transition into summer. But I'm very glad I finally figured it out.

I firmly recommend some kind of trip - even if it's just spending two nights camping at a local campground or in a hotel in the city near your suburb - as the best way for teachers to deal with the complete change in routine that summer break brings. The destination doesn't matter so much as getting out of your daily routine in every way. It's a true break, which allows for the "normalcy" of being at home without your classroom's, students', and school's needs at the forefront of every waking moment seem just a little less bizarre when you come back. Looking into cool summer PD probably wouldn't hurt either...

Goodbye 8th Grade!

Last week my school's eighth graders graduated. I wasn't their homeroom teacher, but they were the first eighth grade class I had taught from the first day of school to the last - English/Language Arts and Social Studies. I got a mention in the graduation speech, performed by the outgoing Commissioner General. He jumped up and down while talking about how I jumped up and down during class to make a point and told the audience, "Don't worry, Mrs. Conrow. I will remember the Internet is forever."

I think that is ultimately what is so fulfilling about teaching middle schoolers - they are ready to hear life lessons. Not necessarily from their parents, but from an interested outside party. Someone they have formed a relationship with and know cares about them, but also someone who does not represent a lifelong authority figure. They respect my life experience and by the end of the school year this class was actively asking for more stories. After one such personal story with a moral in the middle of the school year, some of the students told me I am a good motivational speaker and give good life lessons. I wish I could remember which story or life lesson prompted that remark. I do remember I ended by standing on a chair with my hand raised high in the air, just as the bell rang.

One of my favorites life lesson stories this year was my prom story, which I told within a week of eighth grade graduation. I was teaching a lesson on persuasive writing, which I always like to begin by showing commercials my prom date, who is still a good friend of mine, has appeared in commercials as an adult. I texted him to send me links to his ads, which he was happy to do. Then he asked if I was going to show my students our prom picture. At his suggestion, I decided that it was a good idea to incorporate the picture into my lesson presentation. The day after they had seen the prom picture and ads starring my date, the students were still asking all kinds of questions about my prom. When we had a little time left at the end of class. I decided to tell them the story of how I went to prom. I first asked someone else, who refused to plan the specifics of the event. Eventually I asked him if he really wanted to go with me. He said no, so I told him he didn't have to go if he didn't want to. That same evening I was recounting the events that led to my lack of a date at rehearsal for our school's play, Damn Yankees (I was "student director"). One of the actresses suggested I ask the boy who was playing Mr. Applegate, which I did. He ended up being my date and we became closer friends, lasting through college into adulthood. 

The eighth grade class literally sat silent after the bell rang, as I finished the story, and then cheered as I reminded them of what I had previously told them about my shyness in high school.  I concluded by saying, "I asked two boys to prom. They both said yes. If I could do that, you will be fine in high school."

I hope they come back to visit me or that I at least get a whisper here and there of how they are doing as their lives progress. But I know that I will become a distant memory for many of them as they figure out who they want to be in life and how to get there.