Actually, first things first: I owe Katherine Lampe a review for her book The Unquiet Grave and haven’t written it yet because lazy; in the meanwhile if you need something to read and have already read all of my books I strongly recommend you go pick it up. I will be out of town all weekend at a baby shower/family reunion thing, so I’ll have to get a bunch of posts pre-written; that will probably be one of them.
I have found that I’m in exactly the same position that I was in at this time last fall, that being that I don’t actually know what my job is going to be in two weeks and so I can’t plan for anything yet. I’m still at school every day, mind you, doing various things that are not getting a classroom ready, because if I’m not teaching I’m not expending effort on the complicated process of getting a room set up.
I screwed up today, though. I looked in the computer to see if my classes were set up yet, assuming I’m actually teaching. And they are. And I spent most of the afternoon learning about the kids I have coming. And also taking the several boxes of math manipulatives and other teaching supplies that I unpacked yesterday and moving them into “my” classroom. Assuming I’m teaching.
I know better than this. These girls all look smart and adorable, because the photos attached to their records are their fourth-grade pictures, and they’re all dolled out in their best clothes and are smiling and this happens every year, where I look at a bunch of pictures of kids and spend my time pleasantly thinking about potential and hoping and forgetting about all the bullshit. And it’s the bullshit that’s gonna kill me.
(I should be clear. Have I said this yet? If I’m teaching next year, by which I mean in thirteen days, I will only be teaching girls. I’m not just looking at the girls in my upcoming classes. That would be kinda creepy.)
Some of these kids are going to turn out to be assholes. A lot of them will turn out to be immense drama queens. Some of them, through no fault of their own, will be immense pains in my ass that I will do my damnedest to work with. Some will struggle and some will coast and some will not care no matter what I do. And some of them will be awesome.
Some of them will be all these things depending on the day of the week.
Or, y’know, maybe I won’t be a teacher next year at all, and I won’t have to worry about it. Supposedly I find out tomorrow. I know myself, and I know how the last several years have gone; the world is better off (my family is certainly better off) with me not in a classroom.
But I admit it. Right now, I miss it.