Wednesday afternoon I closed the door on room #171 and another school year. Rather than the typical “last day of school” euphoria, I felt relieved, accomplished, somewhat heavy, maybe a little numb. In many ways, my worst year ever. I had my most challenging mix of students . . . ever. Classrooms are bulging with students, many of whom detest the place, and can’t or won’t participate because of their own physical or academic challenges. Who in their right mind would create a classroom of 32 kids, 11 of whom are special needs, mix reading levels from 2nd grade up through college level, add in a few kids who have major emotional challenges and several who are retaking the class for the third time and call it okay, or even “best for the kids.” Bullshit!

On a more positive note, I made it and on more days than not, I was a damned good teacher! I developed relationships with kids. I convinced them that somebody cares. A few ended the semester pissed at me (a grade thing) some simply didn’t care for my style, and that’s okay, but many begged me to be their teacher next year, gave me notes of appreciation, and tons of hugs. That’s why I’m going back.

For now, I’m going to enjoy the number one perk that comes with teaching . . . Summer!