Dear Year 20,
You were a tough one. From Day 1, when I saw my own son sitting alone at a cafeteria table in a school that I had been so nice to me, I knew it was going to be a unique year. Did we make the right choice to bring him to this school, out of his district? But worse, how could he be a middle schooler already? Time, you are so cruel.
And then, there were the student challenges. Broken homes, broken hearts, broken languages, broken dreams…so many pieces that I had to be assembled,
reassembled, glued tightly and held even tighter to stay together. Students moving in and moving out, here and then gone. Keeping up with their work as they kept up with their lives…or we both tried to, at least.
Sickness…why was this year different? I thought I’d have an iron immune system by
Sinus infections, flu, bronchitis, mold allergies when they started tearing the ceiling out. Pollen allergies through the open windows.
And home life…will we move? When? Where? Will I stay and he move? The kids have adjusted so well this year. Do we have to move them? Interviews…disappointments…plans…changes.
Then staying put and waiting and wondering.
You brought it all to us, year 20.
But I’m still here. To quote the beloved Langston Hughes,
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
My classroom is dark now.
The boxes are packed,
the chairs are stacked.
Everything is labeled
because I’m coming back.
I didn’t get it all done this year. They will be back next year, and so will I. The needs will still be here, and so will I. Time marches on, and so will I.