Got up early. Hustled my tail off preparing tests and answer keys, grading essays and other tests, planning out Erin and Lanie's work, and nearly forgetting to pack a lunch for Erin to take.
How is it I built in nearly six hours of morning, and I still can't keep up?
But I got to school and made copies of everything, and nearly every word I spoke was two steps ahead of my brain--so I had no idea what I was saying.
I walked into my class with a great smile.
I spoke with great joy.
I wished them a happy Friday (I call Wednesdays Fridays there).
I handed out rubrics. I passed out tests. I administered another test. A co-op mom brought in chocolate.
This heart was full. I probably laughed too much, too loudly.
I sat next to one girl, her eyes were so bright.
"I'll miss you," I said to her.
"Then come back," she said.
A lot of our curriculum is ordered for next year. I'm already making other plans. And there's still that part of my heart that wants to teach medieval.
One day ... because one day I'll be teaching my kids medieval.
Next year, my kids are going to get my big smiles and my great joy. My kids are going to get what's best of me, instead of the end-of-day left of me. They're going to get this heart, full, and my laughs-too-much-too-loudly.
And there is an incredible lightness in that.
I hugged some friends on the way out of the building. Erin accompanied me with her backpack and orb web of wet glue on wax paper. She had a candy bar for Lanie.
Six Tuesdays left. Books in the mail.