It has been six months. Seven days. A handful of hours. And an ever increasing amount of seconds since this all began.
Since this--this thing, this adventure, this trial, this period, this challenge, this struggle, this decision--all began.
And so I find myself back at the starting point. The stretch of track that precedes the race. The preparation ground. The place where races truly start. Where mind must conquer matter and convince the self that this truly is a race worth running.
And look how far we have run so far.
This has been a sprint that turned into a marathon, that turned into a slow jog, that turned into a limp, that turned into a crawl with only a few steps to go until the finish line.
We made it. But just barely.
The phrase that continues to linger in my mind is, "Teaching is hard." No kidding Sherlock. But that word, "hard," is inadequate. It makes this sound like it is simply difficult. A challenge that will be overcome. A road that--although fraught with peril--is not impossible to navigate.
But that is not teaching. Teaching is beyond anything I thought it would be.
And it is not because of the lesson planning. And it is not because of the schedule. And it is not because of the administration. And it is not because of the difficulties of being a first year teacher. Those things all matter. And those things all make it "hard." But what makes this the most jarring life choice I've ever made has to do with the emotional toll being in a classroom with sixty middle schoolers every day can have on a person.
My dad just got out of jail.
A phrase that has become all to familiar to me.
My mom just got out of jail.
Just as common.
My daddy's still in jail.
Part of every day life.
Shut up talking to me! Get out of my face! I don't f***ing need to talk to you!
And those are the musical little phrases I get to hear on an hourly basis.
Sigh.
But here I am. In the middle of this first year. A fourth of the way done with a two year commitment. Wondering what I have gotten myself into. But nowhere near ready to give up.
We've come too far for that.
Moments are what I live for. Do I have "good" days? Sometimes. Rarely. Do I have good weeks? Never. Months? No. But moments. Yes. Moments can be good. And more often than not, it is those sweet, innocent, powerful, good moments that make me stay. That keep me from walking out of my classroom. Out the front doors of Central High School. Out of Kansas City. It is the moments that remind me why I do what I do, and teach what I teach, and give what I give--even when it seems there is nothing left to offer.
So deep breath. Head up. Mind set.
It's time to keep moving. Keep pushing forward. There is no leaving or quitting. My kids need me there. Even if they do not seem to think so. And I need them. I need to learn what they have to teach me. I need to learn these life lessons.
"Ms. Perkins?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Do you stress?"
"What do you mean?"
"Here you spend all this time planning and no one listens to you."
Sweetheart, I cannot allow stress to dictate my actions when your little voice asks me that questions. Do I stress? Yes. Is it worth it?
Absolutely.
You make it worth it. Every day. Every hour. Every second I stand at the front of that room and wonder what I have gotten myself into.
