I ran into a friend out on the town the other night (look at me, being social during workshop week!) and asked him how his summer was. He looked aghast and said, “It’s still summer! It isn’t over yet!” I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “It’s workshop week. Summer is OVER.” He appeared to be equal parts pitying and terrified, so the message was received.
When I was a baby teacher — when I was able to stop subbing and get my own classroom — most of August was spent either at the school or at home, complaining that I couldn’t be at the school because of construction or waxing, etc. I would be cleaning, organizing, decorating, planning, printing, and worrying. A couple of years saw me moving into a brand new space, so not only did I have to find room for all of MY stuff, but I often had to decide what to do with the last teacher’s left-behinds. As you may know, teachers are infamous hoarders; we can’t bear to throw away a potential resource for a future lesson. Why yes, my cupboards ARE occupied with shelves full of things I’ve never used but I might someday so just leave it! Then there was the year that the school was going through a massive remodel, so the entire room and all of its contents had to be packed up in June… and unpacked in August. In one week, because that’s when the work was finished. (If this ever happens to you, make sure you know where you packed your scissors, or unpacking the boxes is kind of a nightmare.)
Now that I’m a seasoned, veteran teacher — 19 years as an educator, 11 in this classroom — I am trying to be more respectful of my unpaid hours, and my summer recovery. Yes, I did come in for a few hours last week, but that was mostly because a) I had a couple of strapping young men available to help, and b) I was going to miss the first day of workshop because of our trip to California. That last bit in itself shows tremendous growth for me — a decade ago, being gone for a workshop day would have sent me into a tailspin of anxiety and self-doubt.
I missed a half day working in my classroom, and I missed a training on the new English Language Arts (ELA) curriculum we are piloting this year. The latter is certainly important, but I have outstanding and generous teammates who will help me navigate the curriculum… if it ever arrives. (Rumor has it that we may have it tomorrow… but we don’t technically work until the first day of school now so… yikes.) The half-day missed in my classroom ended up being a stressor. Let me explain:
Monday: work in classroom in morning, training in afternoon.
Tuesday: Full district welcome, union update, and King School welcome in the morning, work in classroom in the afternoon.
Wednesday: Full day working in the classroom BECAUSE OPEN HOUSE STARTS AT 4 AND OH MY GOD THE ROOM HAS TO BE BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT SO THE KIDS FALL IN LOVE WITH ME AND ARE EXCITED ABOUT FOURTH GRADE.
Thursday: Training all day, no classroom time.
Friday: “off” (Haha I will be in my room as I haven’t planned anything for next week to actually teach.)
Wednesday generally starts with me standing in the middle of the classroom, frozen, wondering how I’m going to get it all done. This year, when I eventually snapped out of it, I started by writing out desk name plates for my 28 students (29 now, one was added this morning). In the middle of that, I had to vacate my desk because our angel of a custodial team came in and announced they were replacing my scratched and damaged white board with a new one. Fun! Unfortunately for all of us, the process took about 4 times longer than anticipated, and filled the air with the stifling scent of solvents being used to removed the adhesive from the old board. No matter, I puttered around the room, beginning and abandoning tasks as new ones occurred to me:
I hung plastic shoe holders on my closet doors for student headphones. I passed out bins on each work area, trying not to get the same colors on any one table (no, I don’t know why that’s important.)
I printed out punny labels to attach to the snack bags of goldfish I would leave at their desks to find (“Welcome! You’re o-FISH-ally a 4th grader!”)
I numbered and taped little turtles to each of their lockers, and hung larger turtles with their names by my door. (I’m known for my turtles.)
I rearranged my furniture several times, trying to Tetris what used to be a space for 21 students into a space for 28 (29).
I created a slideshow for the screen to welcome students and families and guide them around our learning space.
I razor-bladed decoupaged paper off of glass stones so I can remake them into numbered magnets for taking attendance.
I ate a doughnut at one of our incredible custodian’s retirement gatherings.
I kind of skipped lunch.
I wrote all my students’ birthdays on the birthday poster.
I passed out the family paperwork to each desk, along with the goldfish treat and a bookmark.
And so on. THEN, the kids arrived! The two hours of Open House are wonderful and joyful and exciting and nerve-wracking. I hugged former students and welcomed families who were bringing yet another child into my room. I gently teased or reassured newly-minted 4th graders, so they learned I wasn’t scary and mean. I juggled meeting moms and dads with trying to keep younger siblings off the furniture and away from my desk. The time flew by.
At 6pm, a group of teachers stood in the middle of the hallway outside our classrooms and stared at each other. Then we went home. I stumbled up the stairs, heated up a corn dog, and poured a glass of wine. I told Dan that I loved him but begged him not to talk to me. Voices and thinking hurt at that point. I needed alone time in my own head! Dan gets me, so he wasn’t hurt and happily went to sleep.
The training today was so hard. We were all exhausted, and thinking about what we still have to get done before we hit the ground running on Tuesday. I work in a district of dedicated educators, always ready to learn about the progress made in education and to absorb ways to be better teachers. That said, we all had to prop each other up today.
I’m sitting in my classroom as I write this. I have a couple of hours before my son’s high school football game — opening game of the season! — and I need to be able to cross some things off of my list. I’d like to only come in for a few hours tomorrow, but I guess we’ll see. I won’t accept anything less than my best, most ready self for when those children show up here next week.
Thanks for reading.
Love, Susie
Your classroom looks great!
You're ready! You're willing! You're able!