What I Think I'll Do vs. What I Actually Do--A Teacher Summer
Maybe I'm a weird teacher--that is totally possible. But for me, I have 3 or 4 teacher selves. There's "Beginning of the School Year" me, full of ideas and delusions about how much time these ideas will take to implement, there is "Middle of the School Year" me, optimistic that there is still plenty of time in the year to do all I dream of--but kind of in need of a nap, and then there is "End of School" me. This last one comes to the surface as the sun starts to set later and later. In the final weeks of school, as all of the "lasts" occur, the summer hovers over me like a helicopter parent on the first day of kindergarten, constantly reminding me of it's glorious and long-awaited arrival. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded of all the productive and artistic things I can, and will, do once summer starts: that pile of books on my nightstand and the emails announcing fresh fruit at the local orchard remind me how artsy and outdoorsy I will be. The mound of pedagogy books I've collected tell me that this will be the summer I read them all and enter the classroom full of innovative and made-for-TV-movie worthy lessons. And then there are the post-it notes, oh the post-it notes, of things too exhausting to do during the final weeks of school (who can be expected to mail a thank you card when you have to go to the Post Office to get a stamp--I know, I know, you can get them at the grocery store--but those are ugly stamps, and at the end of the year I just can't handle ugly stamps), but that will be done with the ease of Mary Poppins cleaning a playroom once summer begins. Even tasks I probably could complete instead of putting on a list get, ceremoniously, placed on the "things I'll do this summer" list.
My summer to do list looks something like this:
End-of-School me daydreams about spending hours completely revamping her curriculum for all of her classes and taking the dogs for a walk while also finding time to make all kinds of jam, and finally dealing with all the papers that have slowly piled up over the months since last summer ended and the chaos of a school year began. End-of-school me believes she will read the piles of books she has set aside as her summer reading list (that looks a bit like this):
and will finally turn all of the ideas she has jotted down on post-it notes into thoughtful and witty essays peppered with humor and big words.
On the last day of school, End-of-School me is so full of hope, there is a moment that kind of looks like this:
And then, after the choreographed celebration, End-of-School me decides that summer has officially begun. Somehow, in a way only understood by other teachers, the summer flies by. Obviously, those not off for the summer do not understand this and are in no way sympathetic. At the end of the summer, I can usually say:
Jammed all the fruit. And ate even more. I think I've eaten 2 or 3 peaches every day this week. Feel free to tell me how bad this is for me. I will probably not listen.
Wrote the start to "some stuff" that I should really get back to...
Wrote more notes on post-it notes about things I ought to do in class...
And read enough books to feel morally superior to non-readers...
And then it's back to school, with a curious feeling about where the days went. I can't typically say where my summer went. But when people ask me about it, and I start to tell them about my dad's friend teaching me to pick wild blackberries or walking around Silver Dollar City with my niece, I start to smile and realize that maybe the pile of papers wasn't really worthy of my precious summer days, and maybe the unscheduled trip to visit my aunt and learn to make cream-style corn was a much better use of a day off. Maybe End-of-School me had forgotten the awesomeness of an unproductive day. So there--I will probably never have an empty to do list, but I think I'm becoming more okay with that. I'm sure there are teachers who are super productive over the summer, but I've probably unfollowed them on Facebook for being annoyingly braggy about their summers. And I probably could get more done if I spent less time with my family, but I'm not sure that's what I want to do. Summer Laurel says no.
My summer to do list looks something like this:
End-of-School me daydreams about spending hours completely revamping her curriculum for all of her classes and taking the dogs for a walk while also finding time to make all kinds of jam, and finally dealing with all the papers that have slowly piled up over the months since last summer ended and the chaos of a school year began. End-of-school me believes she will read the piles of books she has set aside as her summer reading list (that looks a bit like this):
and will finally turn all of the ideas she has jotted down on post-it notes into thoughtful and witty essays peppered with humor and big words.
On the last day of school, End-of-School me is so full of hope, there is a moment that kind of looks like this:
And then, after the choreographed celebration, End-of-School me decides that summer has officially begun. Somehow, in a way only understood by other teachers, the summer flies by. Obviously, those not off for the summer do not understand this and are in no way sympathetic. At the end of the summer, I can usually say:
Jammed all the fruit. And ate even more. I think I've eaten 2 or 3 peaches every day this week. Feel free to tell me how bad this is for me. I will probably not listen.
Wrote the start to "some stuff" that I should really get back to...
Wrote more notes on post-it notes about things I ought to do in class...
And read enough books to feel morally superior to non-readers...
And then it's back to school, with a curious feeling about where the days went. I can't typically say where my summer went. But when people ask me about it, and I start to tell them about my dad's friend teaching me to pick wild blackberries or walking around Silver Dollar City with my niece, I start to smile and realize that maybe the pile of papers wasn't really worthy of my precious summer days, and maybe the unscheduled trip to visit my aunt and learn to make cream-style corn was a much better use of a day off. Maybe End-of-School me had forgotten the awesomeness of an unproductive day. So there--I will probably never have an empty to do list, but I think I'm becoming more okay with that. I'm sure there are teachers who are super productive over the summer, but I've probably unfollowed them on Facebook for being annoyingly braggy about their summers. And I probably could get more done if I spent less time with my family, but I'm not sure that's what I want to do. Summer Laurel says no.
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