A Lonely Year

Time is getting away from me this year--more so than even last year, I think. AP has me on my toes at all times and chained to a desk with a grading pen. On the other hand, my American Lit classes have me contemplating if I know anything about teaching at all. Each day I stare at the blank, quiet faces and the contrasting peanut gallery, who apparently have never head the phrase "Shut up." I'm teaching my tail off in AP and chasing my tail in American Lit.

On top of juggling two academic worlds, this year is a lonely year for me. Whereas last year I'd decompress with my colleagues in our make-shift faculty lounge, or laugh it off with my work wife, I'm very much in my own world. It's me and the kids, and that's it. My school this year has a very different culture than my school last year. We were so broke in so many ways. I don't have to repeat the whole saga--you know the story. I think the conditions in which we lived each day is perhaps what helped grow the culture our school developed. We had nothing but each other. At times literally shoved into places way too cramped--and that's how we formed this closeness with each other and our kids. While so many things were so wrong last year, our culture was one thing that was really right.

The merger butchered that. I see it on the faces of the kids from my former school. They feel it too. It's a longing for this unidentified void to be filled. Because it's a feeling I've not really felt before, I'm not sure what to make of it or how to help my kids make sense of it. I suppose that's why I hold some of them close . . . more hugs this year, more talks, more wanting to be around them rather than being forced.

There's more to say on all this, but I'll leave it here for now.