The year ended with a ka-billion papers graded and loose ends to tie up. The holidays came and stretched out lazily and then school was back in and everyone was out of the rhythm of getting up at 5 and pledging allegiance at 7:10.
There are two times a year I ask myself if I can really keep doing this. One is in October when all of the optimism of a brand new start to a brand new school year leaks out and the flaccid balloon of reality sits in my lap. (This year 205 kids were mine to track and try to teach. Most of whom have very dire home situations and operate on a level far, far below grade level, though they are unaware of that in the way they are unaware of so many things). And the other time of year is early to mid-January. Something about new year, new start causes me to take stock and what I end up with is a kind of quiet despair that sends me out poking around for other jobs.
I think about things I need to do to keep my spirit alive.
Like read,
and knit
and laugh,
and write.
(And the writing seems to be the loser always because it demands a focus and attention that gets siphoned away in lesson planning and assessing.)
But--somehow spring comes along and my energy renews. I feel then, that I am doing the small wise thing, however difficult and unglamorous. The necessary thing.
