Here We Go

Tomorrow is reporting day for teachers. They day we go in, meet the new staff members, hear inspirational (or not-so-inspirational) addresses from our principals. The day we see precisely how much of a mess the cleaning crew made of our rooms. The day that means that summer is really and truly over.

I'd like to say that I'm all ready to go back. In some ways, I am. I am excited to revamp my AP Psych curriculum based on everything I learned this summer. I am very excited to see the kids, who I miss. I just wish that I had things more under control at home. Right now, there are still unexplored regions of the garage that very much need my attention. There are still four items pending sale on Craig's List that I would very much like to get rid of. I still have paperwork to clean up, bathrooms to clean, laundry to fold.

It's true that all of these things contribute to my sense of ambivalence. But truly, I think that I am afraid that this year at school will be the year that everything that we created our small school to be will go away. All the people who created the culture that put students at the center of our work have left except for a few, foolhardy souls who are too stubborn to give up.

I have spent the past two weeks trying to get my house into working order. This last week the focus has shifted to the garage and a large storage shed in the back yard. It involved countless hours of excavations and van-loads of donations to the thrift store. The thing about this process is that things have to get really bad before they get better. It's impossible to do this kind of work and have everything look neat and tidy every evening. I'm okay with that. I understand the need to dig in, spend my days covered in grime and cobwebs. I'm okay with being filthy and even stinky if it means that the reward will be a more organized and productive living space.

Unfortunately, our current administrator has no such understanding. He wants to promote a sparkling facade, unwilling to look at any aspect of our work that may involve dirt or sweat in order to fix it. Everything must look shiny and happy so that he may keep his job or even get a better one. I do understand that he is under the gun, but at what point does an educator decide that keeping one's job is more important than the self-examination that is absolutely necessary if one wants to move forward? And how on earth am I supposed to respect that??

Very wise teachers have told me to shut my mouth, close my door, and teach my kids. I'm afraid that this year, I just may have to follow that advice.