I’ve noticed that teachers have a different sense of time than most people. For us, the year begins in September and ends in June. So when I say “last year,” I’m talking about last school year, not necessarily 2010. And when I think about “this year,” I’m thinking about the inexorable cycle that will be set into motion as soon as my students walk into school.
Starting Tuesday, students will show up in my classroom. They will cycle in and out, surging through the halls in rhythmic throbs like blood pulsing through the body. I will hand them papers, and they will hand those papers back to me, and then I will hand them back to them. The papers will go out and back, out and back, relentless as the tide. And just like hearts don’t stop beating and waves don’t stop breaking, there will be no stopping the cycle – of students, planning, and grading. The only things that stop the cycle are heavy snow and June.
So this Monday, Labor Day for most people, will be my New Year’s Eve. These weeks in late August and early September are times of fervent repentance and reflection, honoring last year’s successes and atoning for last year’s failures. Always the New Year’s resolutions are valiant and numerous: I will read while my students read, write while my students write. I will update my grades every week on Tuesday without fail. For every phone call home to problem-solve, I will also make a phone call home to praise. I will maintain my sanity and compassion throughout the year. I will maintain my relationships with my colleagues. I will journal about my practice. I will take care of myself.
The cycle tends to batter these resolutions, sometimes beyond recognition. “Maintaining my relationship with colleagues” goes from meaningful discussions about our lives and practice to perfunctory grunts in the copy room. “Taking care of myself” goes from leaving work by 4:30 so I can get in an afternoon run to buying myself a large bag of Cheetos on my way home at 6:00.
Still, it feels good to make new resolutions at this time of year. It gives me a sense of purpose, clarity, excitement; crafting my own resolutions helps me to counterbalance the heavy resolutions that are imposed on my colleagues and me by the District. And each year, I am getting a little better at it – better at creating the kinds of resolutions I can keep and keeping the resolutions that matter. I’m learning to listen for the melodies above the steady drumbeat of the cycle, and I’m finding ways to balance structure and improvisation, the routine and the novel.
My New Year’s Eve will bring high expectations, gnawing anxiety, and no champagne. But I’ve had two months to get perspective, to engage with the world outside my classroom, and to imagine what this new year could be. So, unlike January 1, my New Year’s Day will feel like a real fresh start - fresh eyes, fresh challenges, and a fresh sense of what’s possible.
