Yesterday was the last day of school for my county. I stood by my window and watched the kids running of the bus and thought, “The next time you are in school, I’ll be there, too.” It was a rush to think that finally, after nearly 6 years of trying, I will be a teacher in a matter of months. I don’t think there is anything else as important as that to me right now.
I recently received an email from my Collaborating Teacher from my student teaching experience. During student teaching, she and I developed a wonderful relationship, and we have remained in contact over this semester. She has been one of my biggest fans and supporters this year, and I love seeing her name in my inbox. She emailed me to tell me of the happenings at Student Teaching Middle School during the last week of school and to tell me that a former student has asked her every day if I was coming to visit him on the last day of school. He’s not the only one, she says, who asks about me on a continual basis. I don’t care who you are, that news would make anyone happy.
I became a teacher because I love working with students. Obviously, my students mean the world to me, and six months after our goodbyes, I still remember them daily. But lets be real, students didn’t become students because they love working with teachers. There are an infinate number of other things students would rather do than sit in my class and learn about Language Arts. So when I learn that previous students still ask about me and miss me, I know I meant something to them. It’s not unrequited love, after all.
On a terrifying note, I had a dream last night of the first day of school. I was not prepared for the students, and they took advantage of that and ran all over me. I could not get control of them by myself, and I had to get the help of another teacher. I actually woke up in a cold sweat this morning. I know this is normal for new teachers, but it’s still unnerving. What am I going to do with a roomful of 12 year olds when I’m all by myself?!
