The End
As I watched my fourth hour fill out their schedules for next year, I felt sadder than usual at the prospect of not being their teacher again (they're Honors, and I don't teach any classes above American Lit). I think I feel more attached to my students this year because I've taken more risks with them and made myself a little more vulnerable than usual. It's been a long road from teaching in Manhattan, where seasoned teachers warn you not to smile or let down your guard in the first three months of class. I think about how unsteady I felt with my sophomores for the first six weeks of first semester, and the thought of starting over with several classes of strangers next year is daunting.
This year my students have seemed more like actual humans to me...in past years certain students might as well have been 2-dimensional cutouts because the only things I knew about them was how often they turned in their homework and how proficient they were in reading and writing. When I look at them this year, however, I can see little pieces of the adults they're becoming. And I'm excited for their futures, even if I no longer play a part.