Next week I will report back to the classroom to begin my second year as a teacher. I’m feeling anxious/excited, just as every teacher is right now, but definitely glad that the dreaded “first year” is behind me. Everyone tells me it only gets easier from here. Time, of course, will tell.

I have yet to share the story of how I came to be a teacher of amazingly awkward junior high students. It’s a story I plan to tell someday, but it ends with the unexpected opportunity that fell into my lap last July to teach 7th and 8th grade English at a local Christian school.

Before I had even fully processed the opportunity, I found myself face-to-face (or face-to-shoulders – most of them are taller than me!) with 120 teens in August, wondering what in the world God was doing. I’ve always heard teachers say that they’ll never forget their first group of students, so I expected them to be special somehow. But I never expected that my affection for them would be born out of a handful of once-in-a-lifetime highs and lows all crammed into one unforgettable school year.

Eclipse

It started with an eclipse – a rare, coast-to-coast total solar eclipse that provided an exciting interruption from discussing The Giver and The Pearl in our second week of school. I remember feeling exhilarated because I could freely discuss the Lord’s creativity with my students as we peered through our NASA-approved glasses. Looking back, the beautiful yet ominous sky seemed to whisper a theme that was yet to unfold.

Harvey

When weathermen first mentioned Hurricane Harvey a few days later, I missed it completely. I was so wrapped up in teaching by then, I didn’t even know a storm was brewing in the Gulf. My first clue was an email from the principal telling us that they were aware of the situation and were monitoring the weather closely. I quickly googled “Hurricane Harvey” and instantly began paying attention.

After I learned that school would be closed that Monday, I rushed up to the school early on Saturday morning to grab my curriculum books and was shocked to see that my building was already taped up in preparation for the storm. I desperately looked around to make sure no one was watching, removed the protective barrier, unlocked the door, and slipped inside to grab my precious books. As I was resealing every nook and cranny, a friend and fellow first-year-teacher pulled into the parking lot and we laughed at how ridiculous it was that we were both there for the same reason. Impending hurricanes do not stop teachers!

But then, it started raining. And raining. And raining. And a few days off from school turned into a week. Then two. So much time away that we essentially had to have a second first-day-of-school when we finally returned to the classroom.

Only, not everyone returned. For some, the flood was too much, and their families had to leave or move or choose a different school due to the financial implications of the storm. For others, textbooks had to be replaced. Tuition had to be supplemented. Addresses had to be changed in the database as so many families moved to temporary housing. It was weird. It was awkward. We got through it by discussing capitalization, punctuation, and how to use the library.

Champions!

By October, our hurting town finally had reason to celebrate. Our hometown heroes, the Astros, were in the World Series! Surely they would choke. We’d never won that coveted championship before. But every time our boys made it to home plate, the possibility of an underdog upset grew larger. And then… victory! In the wake of Harvey, Houston became World Series Champions, and the city that had been under water was now covered in a sea of orange and blue. The comforting hugs shared by strangers during the flood turned to high fives and parades, and my students and I celebrated with jerseys, baseball hats and lessons on nouns and verbs.

Snow!

In December, we had yet another weather-related interruption, but it was one of the best ones ever for Houstonians – S.N.O.W! Our entire school campus was white and glorious, and high schoolers and junior highers alike ran and frolicked and played outside before school as if they were kindergarteners at recess. The bell rang and no one acknowledged it. Who needs first period when you can build a snowman instead? I laughed at our crazy kids who were dodging snowballs while wearing their school hoodies and khaki shorts. If they were cold, they’d never admit it. We didn’t celebrate with grammar that day; instead I postponed a test and my students treated me as if I was Ed McMahon handing out oversized checks.

Ice Storm

The second semester began much like the first – with a false start that resulted in a repeat “back-to-school” do-over. This time our interruption was an ice storm, not a hurricane, and I cuddled up with my own kids and thanked God for the extra time at home.

Vaping

When school began (again), we jumped in to research and writing and it began to feel as if summer could not get here fast enough. I read a million research papers, thanked God for classroom internet monitoring software, and cursed MLA-style parenthetical citations. I also got an education in “what is vaping?” after learning that ten percent of my students had fallen into the fad, gotten caught, and were now facing the consequences. It had been a heavy year, and I was looking forward to easing into summer without any more weight or drama.

Santa Fe

On my last day pre-finals, I decided to spend the time talking and praying with each class period since many of my students would be exempt from exams and not be back until fall. When we gathered in a circle on the floor, I didn’t expect to tear up during first period. My students noticed, of course, and teased me about it. But I laughed it off and excused myself to my desk so I could recover in private.

Only that’s when I first saw the news that a school in the neighboring town of Santa Fe was in the midst of an active school shooting situation. My heart froze and then skipped beats at the realization that as I had been praying with my students, other teachers, just miles away, had been shielding their students from gunfire. It was wrong. It was too close. It was not how summer was supposed to begin. Though I wore Santa Fe’s colors, yellow and green, on our first day of finals, I wore their heartache behind my smile for much longer.

Looking Ahead

Years from now, a rookie teacher will probably ask me about my first year in the classroom, so I’ll tell her all about the eclipse, the hurricane, the championship, the snow, the ice storm, the vaping scandal, and the school shooting. But mostly I’ll tell her why it’s so important not to exclude God from her classroom. “You’ll need Him,” I’ll remind her. “And your students will need Him. Teaching is really what happens when you’re busy studying grammar.”

Fellow teachers, what do you remember most about your first year?
What advice would you give rookie teachers?