These two photos popped up on Timehop this morning.
After almost seven years in the classroom, this month marks the first time in 25 years that I’m not going back to school. I have no excuse to indulge in a new outfit, a new set of colorful pens, or prepare for a new batch of kids in room 309.
My life now consists of workout gear and no makeup. My hair is almost never not in a top knot. A few months ago, I was covered in spit-up and now it’s drool or leftover strawberries from breakfast.
In the last 9 months, people have asked me if I miss it. And I never quite know how to answer that question. Because they’re looking for a YES or a NO. And there’s no way I can boil it down to either answer. As they stand there, casually chatting and asking small-talk-type questions, they certainly aren’t looking for all this.
I miss hanging out with co-workers for 5 minutes during class change. I miss seeing my favorite students in the hallway. I miss basketball more than I thought I would. I miss that feeling on Friday afternoon when you’re done; checked out. I miss having weekends that look 100% different from the Monday-Friday grind. I miss seeing students struggle, refuse to give up, and make steps toward their goal. I miss seeing them grow during one class period, one week, or one semester. I miss eating lunch and carrying on a conversation at the same time. I miss the ones who go on to succeed; the ones who make me so proud to say, “I know that kid.” I miss experiencing the plot twists of a brand new book. I miss the camaraderie of the classroom when they accomplish something as a group. I miss grading their writing when they would pour their heart out. (But I don’t miss having 90 to grade at a time!) I miss the excitement about wearing jeans on Friday. I miss when they would make me laugh. I miss laughing at them. I miss the silence of the classroom during a test. I miss challenging them, pushing them, and holding them to standards.
But every educator knows it’s not all rainbows and butterflies. The rewarding moments are exhilarating and come around just often enough to keep you moving forward.
Now my mountaintop experiences are a lunch on the floor because the high chair is just not a cool place to eat. It’s playing peek-a-boo as I walk to a different room. It’s hearing little hands slap the floor as my little crawler follows me around the house. It’s the predictable schedule that can flip on a dime… or seeing the excitement when we let Copper out of his crate every morning. It’s the silence of nap time. It’s the way my heart soars when I hear the constant baby babble. It’s getting my hair pulled and a tiny hand stuffed in my mouth and nose during every nursing session. It’s the exhilaration of watching Dada get home from work. It’s being crawled on every time I sit in the floor. It’s having the freedom to rock out to Pandora all day or having time to heat my lunch in the oven instead of the microwave. It’s having the clean laundry emptied on the floor faster than I can fold it. It’s the playdates that are actually to save the sanity of every mama there. It’s the laughter; oh that laugh! It’s the drool that’s never-ending as more teeth pop through. It’s watching the gummy smile turn into a toothy one.
Really, it’s just being there. For every single thing; the good times and the ones that test my patience. And knowing without a doubt that I’m where I’m supposed to be right now.
So, do I miss it? Yeah, I do. And then I’m at the pool and some high school kids are… acting like high schoolers and I think, Ahhh, this is not my life anymore.
I think God knew what he was doing when He gave us seasons. Some seasons are long and draining, some are beautiful and fruitful; most are somewhere in between. But every single season has it’s own set of highs and lows. So when I look back, I miss the highs and thank God I don’t have those same lows anymore.
I’ve got a new set of peaks and valleys.
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