I just had my final class meeting for the year. At noon I'll have my final choir rehearsal. At 7:30 I'll have my final choir performance. A lot of endings.
I wrote a journal entry about the end of the school year and shared it with my methods class. They both liked it and found it depressing. Here it is:
May 2, 2006
My fountain pen's ink is now a mix of the former blue and the imminent black--becoming mostly black. It reminds me that my day is blue--the sun is finally out after five days of unremitting rain--and yet has the feel of imminent black. The school year is ending and so my annual regrets are upon me.
Teaching is such joy and fascination that the thought of waiting three months to resume the engagement is hard on me. This is heightened always by my sense of loss. Ever since I started teaching the end of the school year has hurt because it means the end of relationships with people I have come to care for. That's what teaching , in its essense, is about. People. Getting to know them. Wanting good things to happen for them. Hoping for their good fortune and watching them work toward their own improvement.
I get to see a lot of that. Self improvement. This is a teacher's great satisfaction: to watch students do their work toward bettering themselves is to want to work toward improving my work, my teaching.
At the end of the year I can no longer do better for those who leave. This means, always, I end with dissatisfaction with myself. This is the black. September is the blue.
I wrote a journal entry about the end of the school year and shared it with my methods class. They both liked it and found it depressing. Here it is:
May 2, 2006
My fountain pen's ink is now a mix of the former blue and the imminent black--becoming mostly black. It reminds me that my day is blue--the sun is finally out after five days of unremitting rain--and yet has the feel of imminent black. The school year is ending and so my annual regrets are upon me.
Teaching is such joy and fascination that the thought of waiting three months to resume the engagement is hard on me. This is heightened always by my sense of loss. Ever since I started teaching the end of the school year has hurt because it means the end of relationships with people I have come to care for. That's what teaching , in its essense, is about. People. Getting to know them. Wanting good things to happen for them. Hoping for their good fortune and watching them work toward their own improvement.
I get to see a lot of that. Self improvement. This is a teacher's great satisfaction: to watch students do their work toward bettering themselves is to want to work toward improving my work, my teaching.
At the end of the year I can no longer do better for those who leave. This means, always, I end with dissatisfaction with myself. This is the black. September is the blue.
4 Comments:
No matter where you go, Peabody, we will always be with you...whether you want us or not!
A sense of loss occurs for students, as well. For me, I've accomplished another semester of stuff for my brain, and I look forward to a Summer full of novels and photo taking.
Perhaps you should refill with blue ink.
And, you can be sure, I will always be menacing you. Besides, I need to help you run the WABAC machine.
It would be hard to have so many endings, but cool to have so many beginnings.
I wish you luck on the concert! Wish I could hear it.
A little Mozart would be just the thing right now.
I will settle for Saint Saen's Symphony No. 3 (More widely known to some as the "If I had words I'd make a day for you" song from the movie, 'Babe').
:D
Hate to break it to ya, but I'm not done with you yet. You will live in my mind and my heart, offering suggestions and support, forever. This past year you have become my mentor on many levels. You've helped me overcome some difficult hurdles, shown me the human qualities of teaching, and have been someone that cares.
I understand where you're coming from with this piece. It is sad to see students "leave the nest." But maybe this sense of dissatisfaction is not so much with the ourselves as it is a dissatisfaction with the inability to stop time. A moment can never be held for long--especially the best ones.
I'm sorry Mark, but you are not easily forgotten. I, for one, am not yet done learning from you.
Please--let the blue seep in through the cracks. :)
Sherman, I want you all with me. No threat there. I also know about the sense of loss the student feels. Last night ended my career as a choir student. It was a suddenly empty feeling.
Loralee, I don't know the Saint-Saens (though I enjoy pronouncing his name), but Mozart is always welcome, always re-vitalizing.
Teaching's beginnings are terrifying and exciting. It is grand to have more ahead.
Sharon, I don't get to hug my students and send them on with summer fun, nor do I often meet them outside school, but I do get to think of them with hope for their new presents and with thanks for their recent pasts.
Jes, your comment caused a momentary halt to my breathing. I'm all right now, but for a moment the emotion was very much on the surface.
You are right: I am dissatisfied with my inability to stop time. That is because the time I want to stop is so good when I'm working well.
Thank you all for your warm responses.
Blogging has rewards.
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