In My Empty Room

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As I asked our wonderful custodian to unlock my classroom, I realized it had almost been two months to the day since I had been in my room.  That doesn't sound like long, but in teacher time, it feels like a lifetime.

I stepped through the door and set my things down on my empty desk. I started to glance around the room.  Empty.  Empty walls.  Empty whiteboard. Empty counters.  Empty desks.  Empty chairs.  Just empty.

Then a very strange thing happened.  I began to be overcome with emotion.  It was almost to the point of tears.  I was not expecting that.  I looked around and I swear I could hear them.  The laughter, the questions, the chatter. . . it was almost audible.

I had two pretty amazing groups of students last year.  It was a difficult year in many ways.  The first year of teaching a new grade level always is.  But, those students made it something special.

I couldn't sit down just yet.  I had to walk around, and look and touch.  I had to relive the old before I could begin the new.  I let my fingers lightly drag across the desktops.  I glanced out the window.  I didn't stifle the memories.  I let them flood back naturally and unencumbered.  I paced the room for fifteen minutes before I took a deep breath and finally sat down at my desk.  It was time to move on.

*     *     *
Today is a blank slate, much like the current state of my room.  I have no expectations.  I have no list.  I have no agenda.  I simply want to be here.  I want to feel the space.  I want to look at it with fresh eyes and an open mind.  I want to causally leaf through the pages of possibilities and not limit my thinking.  I want to see this room for what is possible instead of simply what is.  It's empty now, but it won't be for long.

Posted via email from Pursuing Context

Sometimes a surprise is better

People leave. It is a natural part of life. The longer you live, the more people you are bound to see come and go. As a teacher I have 20+ young people that come and go each school year. Some I get to know extremely well, and some not as much. Some kids are almost forgotten after a while, and a few kids I could not forget if I tried. But I always know I'll say goodbye when summer comes around. The end of school is as inevitable as the beginning. I plan for it. I work for it. In many cases I hope for it. It always arrives right on time. Saying goodbye is not a surprise. But, sometimes a surprise is better.

Every year there are always the "move aways." They start the year at one school and then move away to another. Parents will usually tell me a month in advance that they are moving, but sometimes it's a surprise. The parent will show up in the room, kids in tow, and tell me they are moving. They get their things packed up and withdraw from school. Occasionally I'll get a heads up a few days prior. Sometimes it's a nice surprise.

The hardest combination is when a student I love and adore dearly tells me that they are moving in two weeks. Two weeks? That is far enough out there to not be "soon," but not enough time to fully mentally prepare for it. It is just enough time to get really sad and down. This heartbreaking combination just happened to me.

Two weeks ago one of my sweetest and most precious students told me she was moving. She was actually in my class last year, but they are always "my" students. That first week I didn't really process it. It was just one more thing I did not want to think about. But this week, I could not stop coming back to it. I kept think about how much I missed having her in class this year. I was so glad I still got to see her every day in the halls. I just took it for granted. She is a very bright and capable girl and I know she will do well in any school. I'm not worried about her, I guess I was just thinking selfishly.

It was very hard to say goodbye yesterday. I didn't cry though. I was tough. I knew if I cried she would start crying too. She gave me a big hug and I gave her a little kiss on the forehead. We said our goodbyes and that was that. It's hard to say goodbye to someone you know you will probably never see again- especially when you have been mulling over it for two weeks. I think a surprise would have been better.

Meeting Ron Clark

Wow! All I have is one word for this guy: PASSIONATE!

Our beginning of the school year kickoff featured award winning educator Ron Clark as the keynote speaker. What a treat. I was definitely not feeling school this year. In fact, I remember just telling Nell that this was the most unenthusiastic I have ever been about starting school. That is definitely not the case anymore. This was exactly what I needed.

Ron has been a personal teaching hero of mine for years and it was a pleasure to hear him talk. His passion for teaching is a marvel. The guy is a dynamo. And although he did not talk much abut it, he is a believer in balance, which is so important to me. He is also the "real deal" as he continues to teach and spend his time in front of a classroom full of kids each year. This gives him incredible street cred as a presenter. I feel very privileged to have met him and definitely feel ready to roll for this year!

You can check him out here at the Ron Clark Academy.

Some days

Some days I just don’t know if I want to teach anymore. Some days I have dreams of a cozy cubicle. Some days I really do think I could sell cars. Maybe.

Some days I don’t know if I can take one more kid asking me “What did you say Mr. Stortz?” right after I just said it 13 times and had your buddy right next to you repeat it back to me.

I’m not sure if I can take one more kid asking me if his tooth looks “loose”.

Some days I don’t know if I can tie one more shoe, put on one more band- aid, or listen to one more story about what your mom made for supper last night.

Some days I don’t know if I can tell one more kid to stop doing that and go get a Kleenex.

Some days I just don’t know if I can listen to one more tattle about how James was looking at me during recess and now he’s not going to be my friend.

Some days I know I say “Go sit down” more than I say “Good job!”

Some days I say “Go fix this” more than I say “Well done.”

Some days I want to trip the next kid running down the hall.

And some days I want parental consent to biff kids in the back of the head as an acceptable form of discipline.

But some days, more than anything, I just don’t know if I want to reach the end of my life and realize that I never really did anything of significance. I don’t know if I want to be at the end of it all and have had no one tell me thanks for making a difference in their life.

But the truth is many of us will never see the end results of our efforts. We tire for something distant and unformed. Something that has not yet been. Someone else will reap the fruits from the tears, struggles, and labor that we have sown.

The Bible reminds us to “not grow weary in doing what is right.” We get a chance to pour ourselves into something much bigger than any of us. It’s living and organic. It is intangible and wonderful. It is for the greater good. It’s something that all the cubicle workers and car dealers probably don’t understand. But that’s why I teach.

And some days, I just don’t know if I remind myself of that enough.

God bless you all.

Why is the sun hot?

Conversations with my son on the car ride to school this month:

Son: Why is the sun so hot?

Me: Well, there are many reasons. There’s um… exploding gases, and uh...Did you get your lunchbox?

Son: Why do kids in high school drive cars to school?

Me: Well…….. I’m not sure. I guess they like to.

Son: Did Dr. Frankenstein have a mustache?

Me: Well… I’m not exactly sure. We’ll check Wikipedia when we get home.

Son: Why are elementary schools always inside of neighborhoods?

Me: Well, I guess it builds community for the families and safety for the school.

Son: I wish they were close to, like, businesses.

Son: What if all the continents were connected to each other?

Me: Actually (sounding very knowledgable), many scientists think they used to be. They called it (I paused here for effect and nodded my head as I said it) Pangea.

Son: (Completely unimpressed by my vast historical knowledge) But what if they still were all connected right now?

Me: Umm. We would all be…uhh… I’ll check Wikipedia when we get home.

I see a thirst for physics, sociology, literature, geography. A thirst that often dries up far too quickly. As I listen to my 6 year old son, I am constantly reminded that my agenda is rarely his and that kids are quite capable of making their own curriculum. Somedays I just forget that fact as I stand on my soapbox in front of my classroom full of 1^st graders and preach the benefits of knowing the _ump word family, and how learning to properly make a lowercase “k” will, in fact, make you a better author.

Our students will learn despite us, in spite of us, and hopefully on those rare occasions, because of us.