“See You Next Year!”

The last bell of the school day rings, and students rush past me, all smiles.  I smile back–a big, relaxed grin.  Some pause for a hug and still others gleefully shout, “See you next year!”  This scene is replayed each year as we kick off the beginning of our Christmas break.   We all feel it, the giddy excitement of two weeks, promising time for us to rest, relax, and play.  One student stops by my door, I give her a little hug, and she says, “I’m going to miss you.”

I gush, “That’s the sweetest, but the time is going to fly.  We’ll all be back here before you know it.  Now go enjoy every minute and know I’m missing you, too.”  And I will miss her.  I’ll miss all of these kids, even the ones who talk when I’m talking, tilt back in their chairs, or flip a water bottle despite my very clear rule against this latest fad in middle school “fun.”   Truth be told, I’ve grown quite dependent on all of them and the esteem-building, ego-boosting rush only they can provide.  In the early morning as I close my car door and trudge toward the school entrance, I hear a small chorus of voices from the students huddled outside, “Good morning, Mrs. Laaksonen!”   All at once, I forget why I dreaded coming to work and respond, “Well, good morning to you!”  Tyler holds the door open for me–just like he always does.  I tell him what a nice, young man he is– just like I always do.    Another day has started and already they have done it .

These kids have unfailingly, for 27 years now, made me feel like “somebody” with this V.I.P. treatment done in numerous ways throughout each and every day.  Hands shoot in the air when I ask for a volunteer, students stay after class to help me straighten the room after a messy activity, and someone asks, “What did you do, Mrs. Laaksonen, over the holiday break?” when we are sharing stories from our vacation.

In a profession that has fallen victim to the whims of politicians and the anger of our general public, teachers have suffered at the hands of initiatives stifling teacher creativity and laws mandating teacher evaluations be based on students’ standardized test scores.  It’s been brutal, yet I look ahead to 2019 with hope.  I head into the new year full of confidence and enthusiasm for all we will learn together, all the great discussions that will unfold, and all the shared jokes, stories, and memories that will be created in our classroom.

How can I be so full of hope and untethered optimism?  I live in the confidence that these kids will have my back–just like they always have.  The curriculum changes, new administrators are hired, different evaluation tools are used, but these kids are the constant.  I can rely on them to lift me up with that “Rock Star” treatment, inspiring me to be the best teacher I can be.

So I do.  I do count down the days until I’m back where students shout my name across a parking lot and rush toward me to tell me about that sweet, new puppy and all the other stories they’ve been dying to share.  These little moments, created everyday by my middle schoolers, make me feel like I matter.  It is for these precious, soul-affirming moments with kids that I countdown the time until another year, 2019, begins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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