Let Summer Begin!

By the second half of June most teachers have been on their summer break for a week or longer. The teacher groups I belong to on social media always seem to have several members who are surprised by how late the school year goes for some of us. But it evens out - those of us who just started our summer breaks won't have students in front of us again until after Labor Day.

As part of my usual start to summer I had a way to interrupt my personal routine on the calendar. I didn't have one last year, but last spring was an overwhelming pattern interruption, so I didn't miss having my own plan. I did miss traveling and having plans on the calendar, but somehow once summer began I did not struggle with what to do with myself. I couldn't even tell you what I did. Sleep?

This year a friend of mine from high school, who teaches in our home state, came up for a visit a week after her school year ended, which was two days after mine ended. It had been three years since we had seen each other, when we met in Las Vegas for an end of year getaway. This year we took an impromptu overnight to Leavenworth, Washington, a Bavarian style village in the Cascade Mountains. It's a complete tourist trap, with a few blocks of hotels, shops, and restaurants that locals probably wouldn't be caught dead in (unless they work there). But I love to visit once in awhile. 

We also went wine tasting in Woodinville, where there are tasting rooms stacked on top of one another. Despite the variety of options all within walking distance of each other, I realized I took my out of town friend to the same tasting rooms I've already been to multiple times. I think I'll have to push out of my comfort zone and try something new the next time I go wine tasting. Maybe.

On her last full day here, we did nothing. We sat in the backyard watching the pets (two cats, one dog, one tortoise) interact with each other. We drank the last of the growler of cider we brought home from our tasting excursion and opened a bottle of wine as evening arrived. It was so peaceful I fell asleep in the sun for a bit and ended up with my version of a sunburn (very pink skin that never hurt, but itched for a couple of days).

Her flight home was in the evening, so we left the house early enough to have lunch and poke around downtown. We hit the sweet spot of weather not being too hot, recent homeless encampment cleanup, and tourists making their way back to Pike's Place. There were crowds waiting for someone to buy a fish so they could see it thrown, a long line in the sun to get into the first Starbucks, and generally enough people in the indoor and covered spaces that we donned our masks even though we are fully vaccinated. 

It's a strange time. COVID is beginning to recede from the forefront of all my decision making, but it is definitely still lurking in the background. This weekend we have plans to visit my in-laws for the first time since the start of the pandemic. My husband's parents were champion quarantiners until my father-in-law needed urgent care for an infection. We and they have all since been vaccinated, so we finally feel comfortable subjecting them to our germs.

We have no further plans for the summer. It's a far cry from two years ago when we went to two different countries and two national parks. But it's certainly a step up from last year when we went nowhere and no one visited us.

Last Day of School Eve

 Tomorrow is the last day of school: the last day of my first year teaching fourth grade, the end of my first boomerang year at my current school. It was Field Day. I marked the occasion with my first run down the awesome slide, and had the student ahead of me in line get photographic evidence.

It's been a great year. Exhausting, but great. 

We watched several episodes of Phinneas and Ferb this morning before Field Day and another half episode during the staggered dismissal. It seemed appropriate to watch a show about summer vacation on the second to last day of school. There was an interesting mix of kids who seem to have every episode memorized vs. kids who had never heard of the show.

Field Day was actually pretty similar to my memories from past years at this school, except that instead of moving as cross age school families, we moved through as class cohorts. Every station was set up outside this year, without the library game of Heads Up 7 Up, and without a crazy loud activity in the gym (games on scooter boards or inflatable obstacle courses). It was also shorter, with fewer stations and grade levels split to help maintain physical distancing. Thus the Phinneas and Ferb marathon in my room.

The kids seemed to have a great time, even the student who had a recent emergency appendectomy followed by another run to the emergency room. She was not allowed to run, and I had to remind her more than once to stop showing her excitement by jumping up and down. During the Balloon Smash (where kids run around trying to pop the balloons tied to the ankles of their classmates) she hung out on the play equipment with an activity book sent with her by her forward thinking mom.

When I asked what everyone's favorite station was at the end of the day, the enthusiastic replies tripped over one another. I believe a good time was had by all. During my drive home today I had high hopes of cleaning a bathroom, mopping the kitchen... but I came home and fell asleep on the couch for two hours.

Tomorrow is the last day of school. Cleaning up my classroom and closing it out for the summer was more emotional than I expected this year, even though there wasn't much to do. I have only been teaching in person since the end of January, and my new room used to be the middle school science lab. The science teacher is finishing clearing out the science equipment from the cupboards in my room this week. I'm already ready to check out, even though I haven't even handed out report cards yet. That has literally never happened to me.

Flashy Me?

I had a co-worker I don't know very well tell me recently that I'm flashy. To be fair, we were taking about my purple car, purple hair, and matching sunflower shoes and mask. Okay, I see his point. I do "commit to a theme" as some of my other co-workers have called it, when I wear flamingo shoes, shirt, and earrings. I enjoy putting outfits together, and I am the reason my husband and I bought a plum crazy Challenger. My colored hair brings me joy (and keeps me from cutting it short again). I just switched from purple to blue, and can't wait to see my students' reactions on Monday morning.

But, flashy? Me? It's almost laughable. I was the high school student who never raised her hand in class because I could literally feel my heart pounding with anxiety at the mere thought of speaking up in class. I was the voter who attended a caucus in my 30s, and had specific points that would have added value to the discussion, but did not say anything. I am the 20+ year seasoned teacher who will share my ideas with my teammates, but not contribute to the whole group discussion at a staff meeting.

Even though I'm still working on speaking up in groups, I have gained confidence over the years. I credit my husband with most of my ability to feel free to be myself. But teaching certainly has helped. Teaching middle schoolers and developing connections with them gave me a safe space to showcase my zany side outside my home. I felt free to stand on desks, dance around the room, and generally put on a show for them each and every day. I remember clearly one student who asked me several times about my high school experience as she was preparing herself for hers. She was convinced that I was popular and outgoing in high school. From what she saw of me in the classroom, my flashy side, I could see how she came to that conclusion. I don't know if she believed me when I told her the truth: I was super shy and didn't feel like I had any real friends until maybe my junior year of high school.

When I was in high school I never would have thought I'd be someone with a "rebellious" hair color or even someone who dressed in a way that stood out. Mind you, I don't dye my hair or "commit to a theme" with my outfits in order to stand out - I do it because it makes me happy. But now that I am comfortable enough, confident enough in myself and who I am, I do make fashion choices that stand out and cause others to comment. I didn't peak in high school, and frankly, I'm glad. I'm in my mid-40s and I hope I still have a lot of life left to live on this earth. I like to think that the best years are yet to come.

Does that make me flashy?

Boomerang

 For the past month or so when I think about where I am in my career, one word flashes through my mind: Boomerang.

I left my current school at the end of the 2016-2017 academic year, pursuing my life long dream of becoming a foster parent. We had been fostering a brother and sister sibling set for over half a year by then and were taking steps toward finalizing their adoption to make them permanent members of our family. The commute (10 freeway miles in the heavy traffic during rush hour direction) combined with all the appointments and activities that came with parenting an additional two children who came from a trauma filled background, meant something had to give. 

When I left four years ago, I was sad that I was leaving the school where I had experienced the most professional growth of my entire career, even though I was over a decade in before I even started working there. I knew I had grown so much as an educator working for the principal and that I would be hard pressed to find another boss who would work so hard to push me to keep achieving more. But I was excited about my personal endeavors and ready to work toward ensuring a successful transition for my new children. Little did I know that my foster children had only shown the tip of the iceberg of their trauma to that point, and the placement would fall apart as we got closer to making them legally a part of our family.

The teacher hired to replace me ended up leaving at the Christmas break. My principal called me and practically begged me to take back my old job. But all the reasons I left were still in play. We talked back and forth and he convinced me to sub in what had very recently been my classroom for the month of January, 2018. Just as he hired a replacement for the second half of the school year, my foster son was being permanently removed from my home after several behavioral escalations resulted in several 911 calls, a medical evaluation for me, and an in-patient stay at the behavioral health ward at Seattle Children's Hospital for him. His sister was still in my care, but her behavior at that time was infinitely more stable.

Since my old job was once again taken, and my house was no longer in crisis on a daily basis, when I heard a different previous school was looking for a long term sub to finish out the school year for the 6-8 grade language arts teacher who had been severely injured in a car crash, I interviewed for it. I finished out the school year in someone else's classroom, doing a job I had long thought would overwhelm me. It was *so* much fun connecting with those middle schoolers and teaching them to become better writers.

That spring my foster daughter was also permanently removed from my home. After her brother had moved out, her behavior had deteriorated to the point that we were filing "serious Incident reports" with her social worker and our adoption agency daily. Her behavior escalations were happening at home and at school. We didn't ask for either of the kids to be removed, but life became infinitely more calm after they were gone. I found myself looking for my own classroom again.

I could have stayed on for one more year, working in the classroom belonging to the teacher who had been in a car wreck. But I wanted my own classroom. There were two openings at a school close to my home: fourth grade and middle school ELA. The principal there was moving across the state, but the search for his replacement was still underway. He spoke to my former (and current boss), and told me he had never heard such a glowing recommendation for a person he was considering hiring and offered me my choice of the open positions. Coming off of the middle school language arts position, I jumped at the opportunity to take on a middle school homeroom position of my own.

Although I had a difficult time connecting with my homeroom sixth graders, who I only taught for one class each day, the eighth graders made me excited and joyful to go to work every day. My second year there the schedule shifted and I taught eighth graders exclusively, removing the sixth grade homeroom and one class period per day from my schedule. The middle school team was a welcoming and joyful group. We sought each other out for professional and personal support and celebration. I remember very clearly thinking I had found my forever school, and was surprised to discover I could easily picture myself finishing my career teaching 8th grade history and language. There's a mountain of grading and feedback required to push middle schoolers to become better writers, and that part of the job was incredibly time consuming, but I found joy in working with the kids. I knew I was making a positive difference in their lives and they were returning the favor. Twenty years into my career I felt I had finally landed at my "forever school."

Then, as the pandemic was beginning to shut everything down in my area, my principal delivered devastating news. My contract was not going to be renewed. The school was facing a massive budget shortfall, and staff was being cut by 20%. I knew about the budget crisis, and that staff was going to be reduced. But, like many of my co-workers, I assumed those would be aides, front office staff, and possibly custodial staff. Very few of us thought homeroom teachers were going to be cut. However, both fourth grade teachers, both middle school ELA teachers, and the academic support specialist were all let go.

We were told our contracts were nonrenewed literally as students were coming into the building for the final time of the 2019-2020 school year to collect belongings and supplies for the start of remote learning. As shattered as I felt, I had to finish out the school year teaching remotely. Under the circumstances, I was relieved that many of the 8th grade end of the year activities were cancelled, and those that were held were physically distanced. I didn't want the kids to see how upset I was.

Searching for a job in the spring of 2020 was difficult. Schools were not sure what kind of learning model they were preparing for in the fall and there were threats from the federal government about cutting funds even as facilities upgrades and additional barriers and sanitizing supplies were needed. I was in regular contact with my former principal, asking him to fill out reference forms and write letters of recommendation. One of my requests was met with the response, "I'd be happy to. But why don't you stop applying at districts all over the state and come teach fourth grade for me?"

So here I am, closing out my first year as a fourth grade teacher at the same school I had left in June of 2017. I have boomeranged back, even after considering another school my "forever school." I have thoroughly enjoyed teaching fourth grade, and can now say I have taught every grade 3-8. The connections are very different than those I had with eighth graders., but the relationships are still quite strong. We have fun together, and I am planting the seeds of life lessons that will serve these kids well as they mature and come into their middle school years. I also love that I will get to see some of that growth as they move down the hallway, away from me and toward their eighth grade graduation.