My class this year is possibly the most amazing class I have ever had. I have had great classes before but my class this year is really a cut above. The first day back after Christmas break, I have always needed to do some reteaching of my classroom expectations. This year we had a bonus snow day on the day we were supposed to return, but I made time for my expectation review lesson anyway. They didn't need it. Every classroom expectation that was set in the fall was followed by every kid as they entered the room. It was unreal. This has literally never happened in any previous year.
Twice last week I had to be away from my students for the first time since COVID closed schools in March of 2020. Both times were for Archdiocesan level meetings. On Tuesday afternoon I had my principal cover my lunch period and the student life director covered the rest of my day. Both members of my administrative team gave me glowing reports about my students.
On Friday I was away all day. A nun who used to teach full time, decades ago, was my sub. I was at the chancery building during the day and stopped back by my room on my way home to pick up the work that was turned in by my students on Friday. As I drove up, the Sister who had been in my classroom was exiting the building with my class in line behind her. They were very excited to see me. Frantic waving and smiles ensued as I rummaged around for my mask.
During carpool I read the notes from my guest teacher. She hadn't written much, but what she did write was all positive. She came in after the kids had all been picked up to tell me what a great group of kids I had. She said, "Once they understand what to do, they just do it!" That has been my experience this year as well.
As someone who has taught every grade level third through eighth over the past two decades, I am a little in awe of how great this class is. I started my career as a young idealist and tried to hang onto that idealism as long as possible. I argued against anyone who said anything remotely like, "Kids these days..." for years. But in recent years I have been forced to recognize that kids these days have such a different environment than previous generations that they are different. But this year's group is reminding me that different is NOT bad.
I have always portrayed myself in the classroom as some version of "crazy Mrs. Conrow." In my third and fourth years of teaching after I had my firstborn, I was in my third-grade classroom until lunch, and another teacher took over for the afternoon. My partner teacher taught spelling. One week one of the words was "weird." On a homework assignment requiring students to use each spelling word in a sentence, one student wrote, "My teacher is so weird." My partner teacher was upset until I told her I regularly told them how weird I was.
Over the years this has morphed into crazy, old Mrs. Conrow with purple hair. For years after I started calling myself old, my students clearly didn't believe me. But now that I'm back down in fourth grade with students whose parents are almost universally younger than me, they are starting to agree, but with reservations borne out of the awkwardness of good manners and knowing that you aren't supposed to talk about age with old people. But I am aging, even if I dye my hair extreme colors. At least I'm having fun.
