A Small, Sweet Thing

Life is a mixed up bag of crap and magic. Teaching especially. It can change from day to day, class to class, even from minute to minute. The fluidity of highs and lows are something only another teacher can understand. This week, as I've been getting used to teaching at a brand new school, in a new town, in a new state, I've felt the crap and magic more than usual.

I'm liking my new school. It's a super diverse place with vibrant teachers, energetic about their jobs. I have students at all levels of excitement and apathy... all levels of enthusiasm and compliance. It is, after all, a high school. I feel like someday I'll love this place, like someday I will belong. But right now, I miss Providence. I miss my students. I miss having them run up to me on the first day back to school. The hugs, the excited stories. I miss the comfortable conversations with colleagues at lunchtime, the camaraderie, the inside jokes. I miss the easy feel of the place, the familiarity, like my favorite worn out slippers. Which is not to say it was actually easy. No, there was plenty of crap to wade through. But it sure did have it's magic too.

And my new school? I can see it will feel like home someday, but for now it feels new, unfamiliar. I'm just starting to build connections. But nobody missed me over the summer. Nobody was excited to see me on the first day back. So, my heart has been aching a bit this week. And then, the smallest, sweetest thing happened. Yesterday, towards the end of the day, I had an IEP meeting I had to attend. I was standing at the board, writing instructions to the substitute as students began to file into the room. The sub arrived, and I explained to the students that I had to go. And one of my new students, who I've only had in class four times so far, said, so sincerely, "But, all day, I was looking forward to being here with you." My heart melted. "I was looking forward to it too, sweetie. But, I'll be here tomorrow." So simple, and she probably has no idea how much that meant to me, or why.

But that was my magic. And it was enough.