So, a week from today is my 23rd first day of school, if I've done my math correctly. Check me here:
13 years of K-12 education taking place at five different schools total, across two different states
4 years of undergraduate education at UNCG and in New Zealand
3 years of first days as a teacher overseas
2 years of graduate work back in NC
I've had 22 first days - some of them normal first days, and others a bit more exciting; but each marks a new phase in my life. My life has revolved around the school year, it seems. I guess I should technically say I've had 23 first days since NZ was opposite the northern hemisphere and I experienced their first day in February with them.... but I digress...
It's weird to think that I'm about to start my 23rd year of school in some form or fashion. As many of my friends return to the classroom for workdays this week, I miss (a little bit) the classroom I left. I miss that rush of the new year, the rhythm of vacations, new students, new challenges... life was never boring, that's for sure. And every year you had a chance to start anew.
While teaching, my subject was unique, though. While you had the chance to start anew, you were also always building. I was a music teacher, you see, and I would have the same students year after year unless they moved away or had to quit for some reason (which I rarely allowed). New students at the school were a regularity, but it wasn't often that we were able to fit in everyone who wanted music (how often does *that* happen in a school?!). Sometimes I miss the newness. I miss the excitement. I don't think anything will ever quite match up with what those first days were like. Nothing.
And now, I'm looking towards my last first day, and maybe even my last last day. You see, commencement - at which I hope to walk across the stage and collect my Masters of Divinity degree will happen a week shy of the anniversary of my return to America. On May 26 (at 11pm), I will have been back in America for three years. And perhaps that is the biggest thing of all: I've been back a long time! And yet not at all. I don't feel so far removed from my experiences that I wouldn't be able to step right back into that village on the mountain, be able to gather my produce at market, walk home, take a taxi in the rain, go to Meenakshi's or Abbas' for non-produce items, and go to Tava's for dinner... I haven't deleted my contact numbers from my phone, because you never know when you are going to be back and need to call Ravi for a ride, or need to order something from Rafik.
It's all a part of life, though: first days and last days. We all celebrate first days every year on our birthday, and we mourn for years afterwards our loved ones' last days. We have anniversaries that we honor with parties, and we remember days we moved...
They're all chapters of our lives; bookmarks in our stories that we count forward from, or count backwards to just keep a frame of reference.
I'm reflecting today on my first days and my last days: What makes them stand out in my mind other than the marking of time that they create? Are there things that make some endings better or worse than others? What do I wish was better about my first days?
Firsts and lasts are important; they are critical points in our lives. And because our lives are always changing, they are inevitable.
13 years of K-12 education taking place at five different schools total, across two different states
4 years of undergraduate education at UNCG and in New Zealand
3 years of first days as a teacher overseas
2 years of graduate work back in NC
I've had 22 first days - some of them normal first days, and others a bit more exciting; but each marks a new phase in my life. My life has revolved around the school year, it seems. I guess I should technically say I've had 23 first days since NZ was opposite the northern hemisphere and I experienced their first day in February with them.... but I digress...
It's weird to think that I'm about to start my 23rd year of school in some form or fashion. As many of my friends return to the classroom for workdays this week, I miss (a little bit) the classroom I left. I miss that rush of the new year, the rhythm of vacations, new students, new challenges... life was never boring, that's for sure. And every year you had a chance to start anew.
While teaching, my subject was unique, though. While you had the chance to start anew, you were also always building. I was a music teacher, you see, and I would have the same students year after year unless they moved away or had to quit for some reason (which I rarely allowed). New students at the school were a regularity, but it wasn't often that we were able to fit in everyone who wanted music (how often does *that* happen in a school?!). Sometimes I miss the newness. I miss the excitement. I don't think anything will ever quite match up with what those first days were like. Nothing.
And now, I'm looking towards my last first day, and maybe even my last last day. You see, commencement - at which I hope to walk across the stage and collect my Masters of Divinity degree will happen a week shy of the anniversary of my return to America. On May 26 (at 11pm), I will have been back in America for three years. And perhaps that is the biggest thing of all: I've been back a long time! And yet not at all. I don't feel so far removed from my experiences that I wouldn't be able to step right back into that village on the mountain, be able to gather my produce at market, walk home, take a taxi in the rain, go to Meenakshi's or Abbas' for non-produce items, and go to Tava's for dinner... I haven't deleted my contact numbers from my phone, because you never know when you are going to be back and need to call Ravi for a ride, or need to order something from Rafik.
It's all a part of life, though: first days and last days. We all celebrate first days every year on our birthday, and we mourn for years afterwards our loved ones' last days. We have anniversaries that we honor with parties, and we remember days we moved...
They're all chapters of our lives; bookmarks in our stories that we count forward from, or count backwards to just keep a frame of reference.
I'm reflecting today on my first days and my last days: What makes them stand out in my mind other than the marking of time that they create? Are there things that make some endings better or worse than others? What do I wish was better about my first days?
Firsts and lasts are important; they are critical points in our lives. And because our lives are always changing, they are inevitable.
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