An Overlap in Time

Time is a funny thing. It drags tough days on for what feels like years and rushes joyful ones in a way that leaves them feeling as though they've always been only a memory, thought of fondly but not appreciated nearly enough in the moment.

Today I found myself in a bit of a time warp as I finished packing up my first classroom, for my final last day of school as an art teacher at Cedar Ridge Elementary. It was a half day for the students and with about fifteen minutes left before dismissal, a group of fourth grade girls knocked on my door to say goodbye, not just for the summer.

They inspected my empty classroom with big eyes. Without all the colorful student art, rainbow borders, artist portraits, letters from students, and art element posters filling my walls, I realized at the same time they did that my room was no longer the art classroom they've known for the last 6 years, but now an empty shell rather suddenly devoid of the character and life we have filled it with for so many years now. One girl remarked that if my classroom was a person with a full head of hair at the beginning of the school year, it was now bald. Which made us all laugh.

They hugged me tightly, and asked me not to change schools, to hang on for just one more year for them until they finish 5th grade, and then in a final plea reminded me of all of their favorite projects we did over the last 6 years. When I told them I'd miss them dearly but couldn't stay, they asked me what projects they'd get to do with their next art teacher in this room, to which I had no answer for them, other than whatever it is I was sure they'd learn a lot and have just as much fun as they did with me. They didn't fully believe me, but they hugged me again (gave me puppy dog eyes) and then wandered out with smiles and only slightly pouting lips.

And then I did something that I haven't done in probably years. I walked to the other side of my room, to my tiny sink that has been the bane of my existence as an art teacher (but on days like today also a saving grace), that's slightly out of view from my classroom door, and I cried. Which ironically is the same thing I did on my first day of teaching 6 years ago, but for a completely different reason. That day I cried because I was so unbelievably overwhelmed and in over my head after the first (but certainly not last) fight that broke out in my room. I had no clue. No clue how to handle that situation, or any situation that was thrown at me in the weeks, even months, to come.

I had no clue how much I would learn about teaching, my kids and how to handle them, but also about myself. Who I am, who I want to be, how I want to show up for my students, and what I actually had to bring to the table.

That first year of teaching went on for what felt like centuries. I stumbled through it, with the help of a lot of amazing people, and built relationships with hundreds of incredible students. And now somehow, suddenly, here I am 6 years later and I'm crying not because I can't handle it, but because I did. And I put my whole self into it, and I loved my kids fiercely, with every exhausted, creative bone in my body and now it's time to move on.

It was such a full circle moment that it didn't feel real. For a few short moments, while I allowed myself the tears, that day and today overlapped. They filled the same space in my brain, the same moment in time, and showed me exactly how far I have come and how insane time is and our perception of it. If I could I'd create an overlapping screen print of that day and this one and frame it on my wall. As it is, I have only the memories and the slight bittersweet heartache to remind me. And I think, perhaps, that's how it should be.

So this summer will fly by, as every summer does for a teacher, and in August I will start again. But this time, I will have the knowledge of the last 6 years, and the presence of mind to try and warp time a bit to my advantage. To remember that the days that drag, are in fact moving quicker than I realize, and to savor the busy ones when everything is going right so that I am reminded that I am exactly where I am meant to be in any given moment.