It happened.

I had my first "moment" about 30 minutes ago.

I had just hung up the phone with my parents. Just minutes before, I got an unsettling call from the bank about my loan for the condo, and of course wanted to tell them because I needed an "adult's" interpretation of the implications (I guess I'm technically an "adult", but as soon as someone starts talking about money in amounts larger than $100, I turn it over to the expert, my dad).

Right before that phone call, I was talking to the TFA teacher who is inheriting my EMS babies this year. It was open house tonight, and she met some of those sweet babies for the first time. Every time she read a name from her list, I felt a bit like those annoying seagulls in the movie Finding Nemo. All I wanted to shout was "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Those are my babies.

I got carried away telling her how S. is brilliant but sloppy and has no control over his own limbs; J. has huge dreams of going to college at Duke, and she deserves to get there; M. is a sneaky little rascal, watch him with those playing cards.

As I was sharing my insight and sometimes completely irrelevant stories about the kids, the new teacher nonchalantly interjected with some of the conversations she had that night. Words that rocked my world.

She told me my kids came bouncing into her room (my old room!) with genuine excitement about math. She said they told her that I was the first teacher that actually taught them math and broke it down so that they could understand it. They told her excitedly about the activities that we used to do that they loved.

The teacher was telling me all this with hopes of acquiring my resources. She wanted to know what I did to build such a positive rapport with them, because she told me it was very clear that I got through to them.

She had absolutely no idea how much those words meant to me.

After the combination of those three phone calls, I lost it.

To be honest, I've been having a tough time getting adjusted to my new job, for reasons that I probably shouldn't post about in a public forum, but eventually will anyways (with the appropriate amount of discretion). The challenges I'm facing are on the opposite end of the spectrum from the ones I faced previously, but they feel so much less rewarding. I said it before, but I've had my moments where I wondered why I even left EMS to begin with. I've always been able to step back and remember why, but after tonight, I've found myself back in a place of doubt. And at the same time, a place of incredible certainty.

I know I would have always wondered "What if" if I hadn't taken this job, so I don't regret it. But after hearing about my kids tonight, that fire was lit in my soul again to fight for them. To love them. And I began to wonder how I could have abandoned them. I feel certain that I made a difference for many of those kids. Not in a "oh, I'm so great, look at me, I changed lives" kind of way. In a "I'm so incredibly proud of how dang hard those babies worked, and I know I pushed them just the right amount" kind of way. I know I made them work harder than they've worked before, but I also know that they can see and articulate that it paid off. And I couldn't be prouder of them for that. They actually like math. They aren't afraid of it. They are excited about it. Those are huge wins. We did it as a team, we did it when no one thought we could, and we did it with very little resources. Those words from the new teacher were a reminder of all of those things.

Now, I have unlimited resources, unlimited support, and a town full of people who believe in our cause, but I feel like a first year teacher again. Because I came from a school that operated on a very different set of systems (re: no systems), there is a huge learning curve, and the presumption that I don't know what I'm doing. My teaching and management styles are different from the expectation, both of which are perceived as inferior. Being new to the school is perceived as synonymous to being new to the profession, which is incredibly frustrating after fighting my way through my first two years.

Don't get me wrong. I'm am very quickly growing attached to these new sweet babies. My advisory class (aka homeroom) reminds me a lot of my honors babies from last year, even though they aren't technically "honors" kids. I appreciate all of the systems that are in place, because they allow me to really focus on teaching, and I have a blast doing my job. But there are things that I don't agree with, that I'm having a hard time adjusting to, that are making me miss my old school, my old staff, my old babies.

I'm not worried, though. I've come such a long way these past few years, and I say it all the time, but one of the biggest lessons I've learned is about perspective. It changes everything. So right now, I'm just remembering that things were not always warm and fuzzy at EMS, and there was a reason I sought out a new job. And that if nothing else, this is a learning experience and is making me even more aware of what I want and don't want in a job. I'm grateful for the doors that have been opened and am looking forward to where this year takes me.

Every vote counts!

I think it's very clear by now that the school in which I began my teaching career has a special place in my heart. The staff and the students have shaped who I am as "Miss H", and I miss them dearly. To say it was a difficult two years would be an understatement, but I would never, ever take a minute of it back. It shaped me professionally and personally in so many ways, and I learned more lessons than I taught.

Part of the challenges facing a school like my old school is the obvious lack of resources. It's a burden that falls on both the administration and the teachers, and one that can affect the quality of education provided to the kids. I was lucky enough to have generous family and friends (you all!) to donate supplies for my classroom my second year, and my kids never went without the essentials. But I vividly remember my principal scrambling for pencils on testing day and running out of copy paper at the end of the school year. Our textbooks were over 10 years old, and there were barely enough for a class set. Our art teacher had to borrow markers from me, the math teacher. It shouldn't be that way.

As if Target wasn't already my favorite store, another reason to love them. They are giving away up to $10,000 to schools across the country, and all we have to do is vote. You can vote once a week, and after a certain number of votes, a school earns Target gift cards. My old school is on the list, and all it takes is the click of a button. Want to help? Simply click here, then click "Vote". That's it. My sweet babies are one step closer to getting the resources they deserve.

Thanks for all your support!

Twas the night before school....

I know I should be sleeping. I know 5:00 is going to come to early, and I'm going to wish I had gone to bed hours earlier. Luckily, I already have the coffee maker loaded with grounds, pancakes in the fridge, and my clothes laid out. Because tomorrow is a big day.

Tomorrow is THE day.

The first day of school.

Ahh!

I can't believe it's here. After weeks of sessions, planning, role playing (yes, we pretended to be kids and ran through just about every scenario possible), more planning, more sessions, and even more planning....the day has arrived!

This is technically my 20th "first day of school" since kindergarten (when you think about it that way...I sound old!). As a student, every year felt a little different, yet strangely similar. I don't remember much about elementary and middle school, but I'm sure there was a healthy mix of nerves and excitement, as I clearly remember from high school and even college. But my two first-days-of-school as a teacher were a whole new level of emotion. I'm not sure I could ever put into words how I felt those first days, but I do remember this. As much excitement as there was, especially my second year, there was also a tiny sense of dread at the pit of my stomach. My first year: what if a kid curses me out on the first day? What if all of my kids are defiant and refuse to do anything I tell them? What if there's a fight in my room? (All of which happened at some point over the course of the year.) My second year: What if none of my kids want to learn? What if they think my jokes are lame? What if I can't get them to where they need to be by the end of the year? What if there's one kid who ruins it for the rest? There was an ever-present uneasiness that stayed with me even in my second year, when I was truly in charge of my classroom and my babies worked hard for me. Because at the end of the day, there was little support outside my four walls, and my kids took advantage of the lack of systems and discipline, as any kid would.

Desipte all of that, I found myself especially nostalgic for my old school today, as they started professional development and we prepared for our first day with kids. I miss the women I work with, I miss my principal, I miss the freedom I had to run my own classroom, and I miss having planning periods where we did nothing but socialize. And of course, I miss my sweet, sweet babies.

Much like when I first joined TFA, there have definitely been moments when I've wondered if I've made the right choice. This job is so much harder than my last job in so many ways. The expectations are ridiculously high for students, which means they are that much higher for staff. The hours are long, we work weekends, and there is always more to be done. Not to mention I still feel like I've abandoned my kids and a community that I fell in love with. My chest tightens every time I think about my volleyball girls, my honors babies, and my fellow teachers. My heart hurts when I think that someone might write my babies off as incapable of learning, and that I'm not there to fight for them. Oh, I have my days.

But then I remember that dread that I had every morning as I walked into school. Everyday was so unpredictable- with kids, with adults, with the district. I had no support, and although I grew leaps and bounds from my first year of teaching, no one was pushing me to be better. I was left to my own devices, because I wasn't a priority. Other teachers "needed" more guidance, so it was up to me to figure it out. In my second year of teaching. I needed support, I needed coaching, and I needed to be held accountable. This move was the best for me professionally, and I know it was the right thing to do.

Now, here I am, the night before my first day at my new school, and I feel not even one tiny ounce of anxiety. Maybe it will come when I wake up, or when I pull up to school, or when I see the buses outside the building, but I know for sure there will not be any dread in the pit of my stomach. I have never felt so prepared for something in my whole life. All the hours we've spent training, planning, and pretending to be misbehaving children have been worth it. I can go into tomorrow with peace of mind. I can walk into school feeling confident in myself and my teammates. I can breathe easy.