Becomeing a teacher means that once again, the end of may becomes a bitter sweet time of goodbyes and good lucks. The seniors graduating this year are among the best I've ever seen. They are mature and thoughtful and caring and intellegent and all around pretty good kids. So here's to the class of '07. Good luck in college and life beyond.
Okay, enough mushy stuff. Some of the teachers went out for a drink after graduation the other night. My weirdness at drinking with my former teachers (as I now teach at the school I attended not so many years ago) including the principal, has lessened over the past year, but not completely gone away. I remember the first FAC (Friday Afternoon Club) that I went to last year. I had been subbing for about two months and one Friday when I was at West, a few of the teachers asked if I wanted to go out for a beer. I get to the bar and this wave of self doubt washes over me. Even though I am 24 years old and I work with these people ever day as an equal. . . they were my teachers in high school. I mean, can you imagine drinking with your high school principal? Changing roles (from student to teacher) is hard. Convincing the teachers to think of me not as a 17 year old is even harder. I have had to prove myself a lot. This felt a little bit like graduation for me too. I got to wear a robe and walk in with the teachers- the kids even call me Ms. Lipman and I don't mind. Growing up? Something like that.
P.S. It's true- the teachers go out after school and talk about the kids; who we love , who we hate; who we want to throw out the second story window during 7th period. Teachers really are the worst gossips in the world- next to high schoolers that is.
1 comment:
ah, your that Becca
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