Time to wax philosophical

The school year is winding down. We have one more week of classes and then a few ridiculous days that no one really knows why any of us has to be there, no grades are given, classes aren't held and teaching isn't done. It's a sort of middle school purgatory where golden summer still hangs just out of reach mocking you while you watch end of the year videos filled with kids in awkward poses so we can all remember the most awkward stage of life known to man. So, though I have had many teaching experiences, this was my first time truly teaching middle school.
It has been one hell of a ride.
Truly, at times I have had rather not nice thoughts about the young people I had the opportunity of working with. But today, two weeks before the end I thought about how young these kids really are; how I felt and acted at that age. Things were... really hard to figure out sometimes. All those promises and guidance and advice I got from people older than me, well, only half of it really made sense. Wow. Can you believe it? I'm only 32 and I already forgot for a while what it was like to be a teenager. At this rate I'll be the old lady in curlers, a house dress and ugly shoes shaking my cane at the neighborhood at large by the time I'm 45. But today and these realizations give me hope. Maybe I'll make it to 50.


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