Teaching: I’m a First-Year Survivor

As I prepare to wrap up my first official year of teaching on my own, I find myself hyper reflective.

This year I’ve successfully administered the Heimlich Maneuver, managed various student anxiety and focus disorders, broken up near fist fights, and provided outlets for students to express themselves about challenging home lives that include everything from parents in prison to neglect and abuse.  I’ve grinned my teeth and beared it while being yelled at by parents, coughed on by sick students, and hated by those few kids that take an extra long time to learn how to trust.

I’ve taken deep breaths when my class would not be quiet or that one student felt the need to put on a show…

In short, I’ve survived.

But, I’ve also done more than survive.  I’ve fallen in love with every one of my students.  I’ve successfully led two back-to-school days in a room stuffed full with parents and navigated two field trips without losing any kids.  I’ve built a classroom out of practically nothing and learned how to shuffle to Party Rock.  I’ve scrounged together jackets for cold kids and field trip money for our Exploratorium adventure.  I’ve laughed uncontrollably and become a much tougher person.  I’ve pushed respect, caring, and the creation of a classroom family.

“Mrs. M, you’re kind of like my mom because you love us and spend all day with us.”

“Yes, I guess in a weird way, I kind of am.”

So even if the days are long, the work is hard, and I often feel like I barely survived, I’ll be back next year, ready to do it again with my same kids as they move on to fifth grade.

H-U-S-K-I-E-S, Huskies are the very best…

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