18 Years Is a Long Time, Except When It Isn't

   Last Tuesday I finished up my school year. Eighteen years I have done this. I have greeted that many first day classes and said goodbye to that many groups of seniors and wished good luck to those who moving on to their junior year. Eighteen years is as long as I spent in my parents' house full time. And in some ways those years have flown by in a flash. I can still remember some of those first year memories (some very scary) very vividly. I still see those "kids" - I even work with some of them - and I still feel the need to apologize to them. And I do. 

   In these years of being a teacher I have learned a multitude of things. I have learned a little to go with the flow. Let's be honest, with my personality type I am never going to go with flow too much, but I have gotten much better. Monitor and adjust. That is what my college professor said. He was not wrong. I have learned that not every year is a great one. But few are horrible ones. I have learned that some of my best friends in the world are the ones I go to work with every day. Life would be very different if I didn't stand in the hall and talk to them every hour or so. I have also learned that some years are, in fact, more challenging than others. And by the grace of God, I get through those just like I do the good ones.

   As I have said (much more often than I should have), this past school year has been one of the more challenging ones. I have several big things on my plate - from new curriculum to redesigned courses, my big evaluation to writing and submitting a course syllabus to the powers of the College Board, to some significant amount of time to "gel" with the students - much more so than usual. But I didn't hate it. I was ready for it to end. I was tired of being stressed and never having enough time. I was anxious to begin my day with happy faces. But in the end, God showed me that what I do matters. And that always helps to end on a good note.

    I had the pleasure of getting to hear a few seniors give their portfolio presentations near the end of the year. Two of my boys who were in my AP class this year gave their presentations that day. Both of them very specifically called me out as being one of their most influential teachers. They were kind and sweet and made me cry.  It was nice to hear that, in spite of my hard-nose, hard-as-heck persona, some of them get me.  One of those two boys wrote me this note (see pic below) once he was all finished up.  He has decided to become a history teacher. This time it was an ugly cry. I have at times, especially on years like this one, doubted that I am accomplishing much. But this young man made my year. And maybe my career. 

    So I suppose I have a few more years in me (probably at least 13 since my Little Man has that many years in the system). I plan to rest up, rejuvenate, and be ready for another go at it in a couple of months. But for now, I am happy to be Mommy Mills rather than Mrs. Mills.