Here. There. And who knows where.

It's August.

When did that happen?

Suddenly, I find myself pausing for exactly four minutes to stop. To reflect. To remember that I am still breathing normally, still sleeping minimally, and still hoping endlessly that the vision I have will become reality.

School starts in six days.

This is a countdown that, though implicit, has been relentlessly ticking all summer. It was ticking when I graduated in May. It was ticking when I spent three short weeks in Orlando. And it was ticking all summer as I went through the intensive Teach For America training known as Institute.

Or, as we corps members like to call it, Institution.

Institutionalization. We lived it, breathed it, slept it, owned it. From getting up at 5 every morning, to collapsing well past midnight every night, we learned the lingo of an organization fighting for change.

There were times when we laughed.

Those were the times when we realized just how ridiculous it sounded when we asked each other, "Have you talked to your CMA about your LP? I think my AIT may need some help from my INV plan and my BMC." We learned the acronyms. And we practiced the models (sometimes with "snappy practice" and sometimes with just plain, regular practice).

There were times when we narrated behavior.

"I see Shelli is working on her lesson plan. I see Elisabeth is silently reading. I see Ben is falling asleep." But apart from using this powerful tool to amuse our friends we watched it work like a tried and true magic trick in our classrooms. There were days when simply mentioning that Emanuel's desk was clean meant that Levi on the opposite side of the room would suddenly stop and make sure his papers were also neat.

Notice me, my students seemed to say with their little motions done by little hands. Please.

And I did. We did.

And the summer was different because of it.

You are capable, I told them each morning as we struggled through writing our rough drafts. You, as an individual, talented, rising 8th grade student are capable.

Valued.

Loved.

You, Armando. You, Jose. You, Erika. You, Andy. You are important to me. You are going to succeed.

There were times when those words were all we clung to. These students can, will, and want to make it. And we were there to help them. LA left us changed. LA left me changed.

And now, after five exhausting weeks of learning about BMCs and AITs, I am here, in Kansas City. Here, in the midwest. Here, at Central High School, getting ready for the first day of many days of fighting against the clock.

You, students in classroom 107. You are capable. And you, teacher in room 107, face I wake to every morning, individual who I have come to know well over the years, you are capable. You have been trained. You have been taught. You have been equipped.

Are you ready?

The heart in my chest quivers and sighs. The limbs of my body tense, then relax. The thoughts in my mind race and then still.

I am not ready. But He is.

And they are.

And together, we will conquer this year, my students and I. We will prove to ourselves that we are strong. We will prove to each other we care. We will prove to our school we are scholars. And we will prove to the Kansas City Missouri School District that this year is going to be different.

When did this happen?

When did I step into the most challenging work of my life?

Sometime, I think, between yesterday and tomorrow. I am here. Present. Living day to day. Praying every hour. Loving every moment.

It's going to be a good year.