Summer is ending. As a teacher, I’ll be back in the classroom in less than a week. The paradox of my dual careers is that one nearly precludes the other.
I enjoy being a teacher. I knew I wanted to become an educator since early elementary school and never considered another choice before going to college. To this day, I anticipate the new school term with enthusiasm, pride and well-thought out goals for a successful year.
But with that comes a bittersweet farewell to reading and writing time. Teaching is not a job that is done well when done halfway. It’s a full time profession that often comes home in a tote bag to continue after dinner. A good teacher’s mind, like an author’s, is often spinning with ideas. So September abolishes the carefree unstructured days of summer when I make my own schedule, choose my own activities and refresh, rejuvenate, invent.
Please don’t think me selfish or that this is stated in complaint. I love being a teacher. Few things are as rewarding as helping young minds embrace learning or witnessing their personal pride when becoming fluent readers. But like all good things in life, they come with a price.
I read several books this summer; wrote stories, edited, conferenced, traveled and beached. It wouldn’t be right to complain. To have two passions is twice the delight and twice the trouble.
What does the new school year signify for you? Happy to have the kids out of the house so you can finally read the book you’ve wanted? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.