The First Year

I'm going to be honest here.

This year completely kicked my butt. 100% wore the tar out of it. Then it smashed my face in some mud, took me out behind the shed, beat me up, lit me on fire, and told me to finish grading all my papers.

The last nine months were REALLY HARD.

Expectations I had in August, before the school year started:

I'd cry every day.

I'd be up each night grading papers.

My class would have a couple of tuffies in it, but I'd be able to deal with it.

There would be a lot of extra paperwork.

Teaching Social Studies would be fun.

I'd have some opportunities to do read-alouds with the kids.

While it would be hard, it would be worth it in the end.

Expectations I didn't have in August:

That my class would be as hard as it was.

That many of my children would already be so jaded.

That I'd work a minimum of eleven hours almost every weekend.

That there would be SO MANY rules and policies to learn.

That teaching Social Studies without materials would be so insanely time-consuming, and I'd be so afraid of not hitting the standards that we'd only read two actual books all year.

That 2 out of 3 nights my first semester would be spent tossing and turning because I was terrified of getting in trouble for something--anything--I didn't do right.

I also had to deal with a lot of jealousy over some of my friends who were also in their first year of teaching--facebook updates about gifts they received for teacher appreciation week, pictures of their pretty classrooms, posts about how great their teaching coaches were, and tweets about their perfect kids.

I tried to go back and read journal entries from the first few weeks of school, and I had to stop because it was too painful. And I kept thinking How on earth did I NOT quit??

In October, I started fervently praying over my classroom. I prayed for peace. I prayed that the kids would be kind to each other. I hung onto the hope that I'd see some fruit at the end of the year.

The end of the year is here now, and in some ways it feels like many prayers weren't answered. I realize that seeds sown now can take a long time to grow, and that my expectations were probably too high. But I won't lie to you--the lack of results has been a hard reality to face after the love and energy I've poured out.

I've had a lot of small rewards this year, and YES, I have savored every one. When I saw other teachers' posts of all the things they got for teacher appreciation week, I hung onto memories of small moments. The McDonalds toys I got for Christmas. The child who gave the most well-timed hugs. The way the kids clustered around my desk in the morning to tell me about their lives--or do the t-rex dance that makes me laugh. My students have shown me love in unconventional ways, and I know that they care.
I know this year hasn't been wasted. 

But there was no big breakthrough or victory. It was hard, I gave it 110%, and I still messed up a lot. I didn't cry every day like people told me I would--but every week or so when I'd give in to my frustration, I'd cry so hard I couldn't see straight. I told myself it was hopeless, I was a failure, and that I wasn't going to make it.

Before the year started, I read a lot of blogs/articles with advice for first-year teachers (because, you know, it was my first "real" year). They all had a lot to say and only ended up making me more stressed. I've come to the conclusion now (and knew a little bit then) that your first year is hard and unpredictable no matter where you are, and there's nothing you can do to fully prepare for it.

Do I still feel called to teaching?

Yes.

Will next year probably be better?

Yes.

Have I impacted these kids' lives, and have they impacted mine in return?

Absolutely.

Will I cry on the last day of school?

Probably.

But am I ready for this year to be over?

Yes. And I think that's ok.

Now, pictures I took last week of three of my great coworkers (because I can't post any of the hilarious/awesome pictures of my kids from field day or our field trips last week).

Heather, who knows everything and will kill me for saying it. She's a wonder.

Kristin, my partner teacher. She guided me through so many of this year's pitfalls, and I wouldn't have made it without her.

Kim, who was also new to the school and provided a shoulder to lean on. We spent hours and HOURS planning and commiserating together...which is much better than drowning alone.

Not to mention others whose pictures I didn't take, but who were still life-savers. When it comes to coworkers this year, I can't complain--and that is a blessing.