I finished moving to my new classroom yesterday. My lovely husband came in and helped me get it done, which was really good – the two of us spent close to three hours working, so had it just been ME, it would have taken me probably at least eight (he is stronger and more efficient than I am; I get distracted by shiny things and student notes and stuff).
I’m a little sad to leave sixth grade. Their exuberance and enthusiasm are so great, and they really want to love their teachers. You just have to give them a chance, and they’re in. Eighth graders…I don’t know. They’re a little more jaded and you have to prove yourself more, as I recall. Which I can totally do, but. It’ll just be different.
Mostly I’m excited. I found out that one of the reading teachers in my building whom I most respect will also be moving to my core with me, so that’s pretty rockin’. She and I are very different in some ways, but we both hold our students to very high standards, we both manage our classrooms in large part through rapport with the kids, we both believe in including ethics in our content lessons…we may butt heads at times as we are both strong-willed, but I think it’ll be awesome.
It’ll be fun to see which of my former kids I get again. The Eyeliner Queen probably won’t be back (long story), and BB Bob and the Charmer probably won’t either (another long story, which I’ll get to). But I know I’ll have some familiar faces, and that’ll be nice.
When I left my old room for the last time, I stopped for just a minute to look back. I’ll be in it again, of course, I’m still in the building and I’m sure I’ll be sharing curriculum with whoever is hired for that position, but it won’t be the same. Yesterday was the last time it was my room, or really ours, because it belonged to my kids as much as me, filled with our energy, our memories, our work and laughter and tears.
It was a good first two years. I can’t wait for the next twenty.