Tri One: Done.

The minutes leading up to the 3:39 bell on the Friday before Fall Break might as well have been hours. I had pretty much resigned to letting my students just hang out as the countdown drug on at the speed of spilling molasses. I thought we'd all be  much happier people if we allowed ourselves an early descent into "Fall Break Mode" rather than fighting our way through Thematic Statement versus Thematic Idea, learning nothing except that the Thematic Idea of the Friday before Fall Break is Low Expectations and the Thematic Statement is Students and teachers alike do not want to do  anything on the Friday before Fall Break. The moral? Don't make them. 

My projector didn't even work so we couldn't play our review game; instead I passed out children's books and said, "Try to find the theme of this." They grouped off into breakout rooms and when I walked by, students  were mostly watching Tik Tok or discussing weekend plans. They're good  kids and I can't blame them. This trimester has  been a lot like being told that you have to run a marathon after  you have only walked short trails a few days a week. The transition from hybrid learning to fully in-person is no joke; I think everyone is feeling the repercussions of two school years disrupted by Covid. 

But while stamina sometimes runs low and students and staff are quite visibly running on fumes, the joy of this job is beyond what I ever could have imagined. Westfield High School is by no means perfect, but I truly cannot  imagine  a better place to  work. I told Lilly that she could bury my body under the football field when I die. Somewhere near the Jumbotron, preferably. I'm also only three months in. 

It is an incredible blessing to get to walk into a job that I love, and I'm mostly writing this down for the days down the road where I am inevitably filled with dread, when the honeymoon phase of public-school employment has worn off and I  start to see my students as burdens to be punished rather than image bearers worthy  of grace and kindness. Not every  day is perfect. I have days where I snap. Students I grow impatient with. Students who grow impatient with me. Lessons I walk away from and think, "No one learned anything just then" or "Was that information even right?". I have nightmares about uncontrollable classroom chaos, usually while the principal (my boss) is tucked away in some secret corner, typing my lack of management into an online observation platform. 

Not perfect. Not even close. But really, really fun. Really fun to watch Sam* take charge in his book club discussion and Graham* write a fiery review of the Carmel KFC.  Really fun to see the K-Squad roll in and belly laugh over their characterization poster, making the main character of Turtles All the Way Down look something like an alien drawing gone wrong. Really fun to  be challenged by the brilliance of Kade and Kami, to watch ELM get a perfect score for the first time in his  life, to read the coming-of-age stories of students who are just beginning to ask questions like Who Am I? and Who Do I Want To Be?

I have end-of-trimester sadness as I come to terms with the fact that this classroom chemistry is soon going to be shaken up, but I am hopeful as new faces will bring about new energy, fresh ideas, different friend groups and new students to learn from. I am thankful for the 107 bright-eyed Shamrocks who made my  first trimester of teaching such a  joyous endeavor, and I look forward to the turnover that will land dozens more in Room 2107. Tri 2, we're ready for you!

*Names are made up to protect student privacy

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