Year 3- The End

It is hard to believe that my third year in teaching is coming to its end. This was my first year at Merced High School, and I am thankful that it all worked out the way it did. This time last year, I was packing up my classroom because I was leaving El Capitan High- reluctantly. I didn't want to leave. I was sad to leave. I was bitter that other teachers were staying and I was going. I was pessimistic. But my heart is eternally optimistic, even when it is overshadowed by the pessimism. This time last year, I was contracted to teach at a continuation school. Summer began. I saw a job post for Merced High School. I applied on a whim. I was hired. I waited for move-in day. I moved in. The first day of school arrived. My daughter had a sky-rocket fever and I called in-- on the first day of school at a new school! It was my nightmare, come to life. But, the optimistic in me walked into school on the second day, and I met my 170+ students. 

And now, I don't want the school year to end. My students are amazing. They are the reason I have more grey hairs then when I began. They are the reason I show up to work in the morning despite the pessimism drowning me because I am NOT a morning person-- I get up nonetheless, and I put on the upbeat music, and I dread arriving to work during the entire drive from Atwater to Merced, and some times I consider call in just for shits and giggles. But, I keep driving. I don't call in. I don't show my negative Nancy mood the second I step on campus. I see my students, waiting outside of my classroom, walking into my room, saying good morning and hello, and my mood transforms. I realize they are the reason I came to work today. Every single one of them are the reason. They drive me crazy. I tell them I love them just like you love family-- where you love them even when you don't like them. And it's the truth. I'll miss not seeing their faces every Monday through Friday.

Come August, a new batch of 170+ students will stroll in. And I'm sure I will love them just as much. How can a heart love so many peasants?