I wake with a start and check my watch. It's so dark out. HOW IS IT 6:28???? I was supposed to get up at 5 am to exercise. If I've ever overslept, it's always been before 6 am. This is seriously late for me. I rush out of bed and run to the shower. Monday is off to a hurried, rushed start.
My principal walks in as I'm teaching my third math rotation. We are reviewing for our upcoming fractions test and it's not the most exciting lesson. Some of the students are looking at their paper instead of up at me and the Smartboard. The rest of the class is in a technology rotation instead of doing some fabulous lesson work or problem solving. I wish what I was teaching seemed more impressive. No one is ever there for those magical moments of inspiration in the classroom, but the blah lessons/ Someone always shows up!
My mother calls from the school playground. It's sunny and not super cold and my son wants to stay to play football on the lawn with his friends. My daughter does not want to stay and play- she wants to head home. I assure my mom I'm on the parkway heading home and will be there in 5 minutes.
I walk across the street to the school lawn and send my mother and daughter home. I sit on the step and feel the sunshine on my face. The promise of spring. As the boys call my son's name, I think for a moment how strange it is that this child who was once a baby totally dependent on me is now a little boy in the world, with his own friends, his own thoughts, his own feelings and opinions. I breathe in the fresh air and feel grateful for all I have.
Walking home from the elementary school, I'm holding Megan's little hand. It's dark now. We are leaving our Daisy meeting, where I am a co-leader. I feel guilty because the leader- my friend- who is a teacher and has triplets and a 2 year old!- has done everything for the meeting. And it was all incredible and a lot of work. I also feel grateful, holding my daughter's hand as we make our way home. I think of Bella, who passed away last week at the age of 5. She won't get to go to kindergarten or be a Daisy. I think of her mom who signed up to be class parent in her pre-k class at the start of the year. How she tried to have every experience she could. I am sad and grateful and guilty, all rolled together.
Kathleen Neagle Sokolowski