Third Time Is a Charm, Right?

So, I’ve started this blog page twice before with limited success.  Both fails had me rethinking the idea I had something worth saying in a public forum.  The problem is this, however.  My brainchild keeps tugging at me.  It won’t let me forget.  I continually think, “Oh this would’ve been a good thought, sentiment, post for that blog page idea I once had.” So I’m going to listen to my gut, and give this a go.  Too many times in my 47 years on Planet Earth I have not listened to my intuition, and it’s  ended badly.  Married the wrong guy, bought the house I didn’t love, didn’t take care of the high blood pressure that led to a massive stroke.  And, actually, that stroke and my recovery are the driving forces behind my need for this outlet.

I have been a middle school English teacher for over twenty years.  I started teaching in the “Good and Plenty” years of the early 1990s.  A time just before important elites got greedy and turned  hungry eyes toward the time honored tradition of a free, public education for all.  They moved on their hopes of dismantling our schools to make a buck.  Before this concerted effort to destroy public education when I started some twenty years ago, teachers worked in teams, using integrated instruction and authentic assessment.  Anecdotal records of student progress were more trusted than numbers.  And we were encouraged to value the “whole child,”  seeking each students’ talents and building rapport.  I thrived in this era!  But alas, all good things must come to an end.  I stood with my colleagues in the middle of the public education system as it all began crumbling around us.

Without going into laborious detail, this shift was devastating to me.  And I believe the sadness and the loss of my identity in these data driven years contributed to my human collapse.  Now I need to build up my strength,recapture the work I love and realize my purpose as an educator.  I have ruminated on the idea and how to accomplish this for many hours.  And all my reflecting brought me to this.  There is a scene in the movie “Boyhood” in which the mother is sitting at the kitchen table while her son is packing for college.  She is bereft and lamenting the end of his boyhood.  He brushes her off and continues packing.  She puts her head in her hands, her eyes wet with tears, and mumbles, ” I thought there would be more…”  That.  That did me in.  I was a blubbering mess for the rest of the movie and hours afterward.  It is the idea of more that gets me.  This desire for “more” inspired my recovery from the stroke and my return to the classroom. I wasn’t done yet.  I thought there would be “more.”  So now I am back in the classroom with my middle school writers, and I’m determined to capture “my more.”

This blog will give me a platform to chronicle my return to the classroom and hopefully the ways I uncover to make my work meaningful even in this era of numbers and conformity.  The blog endeavor will inspire me to keep my promise to myself.  My promise to live this teaching life honestly and without fear.  I will be the teacher I know my students need and I will chronicle the journey right here!