The slogging review of my accumulated notes and documents draws my eyes down almost unto tears. The student notes were joyous yesterday. The emails, observations and official notices are soul deadening.
I was watching "Ask This Old House" yesterday and as they explained how a toilet functioned like a siphon by siphoning water out or a bucket, I thought, "I could use that to teach adhesion and cohesion...I wish I had used that example...Oh yeah, I'm not going to teach properties of water next year." Summers were a time to learn more so I could show and tell more with a 10 week deadline.
I still feel the rush to get as much done as possible before the return to school and the opening of the "show." I tell myself that summer never ends, but my nervous system registers hurry.
I started going through students comments from the late 1990s. I had them write and draw me a memory from their past year. Many expressed appreciation for how much fun my class was. Others talked about friends, sports and such. Even those who drew me kicking them out of class - we had love for each other. I feel sad for losing that energy by leaving teaching. They are about 40 years old now. I wonder who they are as adults.