Positively

I came back from the Folger Summer Academy full of fire and ideas.  It was like a tent revival for English teachers, I guess, or an encounter with what Prometheus stole from the Olympian hearth.  I felt real enthusiasm for getting back in the classroom and for trying some new approaches to teaching works I've loved for a long time.

Then the first day of PD hit me.  

It wasn't bad, I suppose.  In fact, we had a really good keynote speaker this year, someone who was sensible, moving, and meaningful, someone without a sales agenda. He was genuinely inspirational. It also seemed like everyone from the mayor on down the line was trying very hard to keep the meeting stripped down to those essential bits we simply must have every year.  I guess I just don't do meetings well. I never have.  The seats in the auditorium, while new, simply weren't built for my height, and the longer I sit in them, the more pain I'm in.  

The list of procedural things I have to get through seems to be growing exponentially whenever I look at it.  As I looked at checklists, additional duties, new policies, and detailed descriptions, I felt a definite snag in the flight of my joy for the new year. Due to a lack of sleep last night, stress today, and an overloud PA system, I wound up with the inevitable headache.  

Our last meeting came to a close, I tottered up the stairs to my classroom, took a big migraine pill, and laminated some stuff while waiting for its lingering fuzziness to abate before trying to get myself from school to home. When I finally got settled in my comfortable chair with a bowl of mini ravioli (don't judge, yo), an episode of the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice mini-series on Amazon Prime streaming, and my sweet cat Dillon curled around my neck on the back of the recliner, my thoughts cleared and I developed a new resolution.  This year *is* going to be a good one.  All the little bits of busywork that surround education in the modern age aren't going to destroy the desire I replenished this summer to help my students dive into literature and writing and discover.  

I keep thinking about what Dr. Sandy Mack said about the humanities during our session with him at the Folger:  "Science teaches us how the world works; the humanities teach us how to be human."  That task, that effort, is too important to let these little speed bumps discourage me from its pursuit.  Thursday, the students are going to arrive, and all the things I'm so excited about sharing with them are going to be in my hands like so many jewels.  I'm not going to let the other stuff keep me from being happy about sharing those riches and watching the students learn just how beautiful they really are.  I love my profession; I love the place in which I practice it; I love the students who go on these annual journeys with me.  Everything else is unimportant.

With that in mind, tomorrow, I'm sitting down front where my knees don't have to be compressed by the seatbacks of a row ahead of me; I'm packing a snack, a diet Mountain Dew, and a migraine pill in case of emergency or feeling like poo; I'm putting some origami paper in my notebook to keep my hands busy, and I'm going to get back on track for a joyous opening of school.