A Bundle of Mixed Emotions ... A Classroom Teacher and a Momma

There are days … and when I say there are days … I mean
THERE . ARE . DAYS. That can wipe you out and leave you feeling like you're on empty. You know you have nothing left to give … not to your spouse … not to your kids at home … not to your dog ... not even to that fish swimming mindlessly around in its tank. Forget about housework, groceries, dinner, a shower … you are DONE for the day! You gave it all to the 23 tiny humans that said your name a bazillion times, leaving you feeling like you were spinning around in circles all day and never truly caught your breath for the day. There are years when that feeling is felt more frequently, that you truly are counting down the days until summer. Then there are years that you savor every moment because you know this was THE class. The class that will always hold a special place in your heart. The class that you don't know if you'll ever get one better than them. If we're all honest the sentiment of having nothing left to give is felt more often than it should, yet the sentiment of feeling like this was THE class is felt year after year. I guarantee if you ask any teacher, we'd all say the same, "It isn't supposed to end this way. We didn't get to properly say goodbye to our school babies, our 23 tiny humans. The days may wipe us out, but it's really the best kind of wiping out! Those are our days. We love those days. We love those 23 tiny humans. They are ours. The minute a child walks through your classroom door, they become yours. You worry if anyone is at home with them. You worry if they are eating. You know the trauma some of them have already gone through and what's already been taken away from them and now their one constant has been stripped away too. You know that most, no matter their grade, are having a difficult time wrapping their brain around what's going on in the world. The intense need to keep a sense of normalcy during such an eerie time is something every teacher is facing.

All I can think is how are we going to make it five weeks without hugging each other. Five weeks with merely a wave through a Zoom call that hopefully works for the whole class, but in reality, isn't working for the whole class. Five weeks teaching to a computer screen. Five weeks with no student interaction. Five weeks wondering and fretting if they are really ok. Five weeks with that coat they forgot to take home sitting unused in a cubby. Five weeks.

Then on the flip side, as a momma all I can think is this is a true gift. I have an extra five weeks to love on my babies. Five weeks that normally wouldn't be theirs. Five weeks that I won't walk through my door with a sense of I have nothing left to give them. Five weeks to savor my personal children. Five weeks to not start the morning off yelling get your shoes on, I have to be at work at 7:30. Five weeks to sing the Good Morning Song. Five weeks to actually fix their breakfast … like real tv moms do. Five weeks to not fling my crying girls into the arms of someone else to care for them for the day. Five weeks to not wonder if I should have taken the time to give one more hug and one more kiss. Five weeks.

My challenge is to feel like I made memories in these five weeks. We did something meaningful with our gift. I don't want to end each day feeling like I managed them all day, while I taught school on the computer. I don't want them to feel like I am still giving more to other people's kids than to them. Yet, I don't want my other 23 tiny humans to feel like I phoned it in for five weeks. I want them to know that a big piece of my heart is missing because it wasn't supposed to end this way. The struggle is real, the balancing act is real. My prayer is that I can semi-gracefully balance it all and make it five with filling everyone's cup!