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Happy to be Happy Again

I had the best first week of school.

This isn't hyperbole. I really believe I had the best first week of school I've had since my very first year when I really didn't know any better. And you know, maybe it's kind of the same thing - I'm in a new place. It's shiny and exciting. The kids and I don't know what to expect from each other yet. I haven't offended any staff members or parents yet.

But it's more than that too. I was trying to explain it to some friends who still teach where I used to, and I was doing a terrible job of it. I'd said it was "like the expectations are equally as high, but maybe more grade level appropriate?" and flapped around vaguely. The girls knitted their brows and nodded, clucking that they sort of knew what I meant. I tried telling my husband, who is also a teacher, that it had "more of that feeling of elementary school, you know, like how it feels when you're a student and you feel cared for and learning is exciting?" Again I stirred the air in front of me trying to clarify. "Yeah, okay, I can see that," he replied.

These are not it. These descriptions hint at how my new school feels, but they're not...they don't...

I can breathe at my new school and so can the students...
...yet there is still an expectation and atmosphere of excellence...
...that is not related to test scores...
...but reflects in the scores students achieve.

My new school is not a pressure cooker.

I am treated like a professional at my new school.
I am more than just prep time.
I already feel like a cherished part of the community.

The staff and students at my school smile genuine smiles.

I am happy to go to work in the morning and I feel like a good teacher who is making a difference in the lives of students.


 That's all we've ever wanted to do as teachers, right? Make a difference in the lives of students? Teach them content and how to be a good human, show them what being an adult can be like, and hopefully enjoy ourselves many more days than not. Teaching is a challenge, a wonderful puzzle, different every day, and I've missed that being a joy to me.

I think then, that's what made my week the best: joy. I was overjoyed to feel good about teaching again. That put more joy back into my teaching, which made my students and colleagues more joyful. (True statement - because of forest fires creating poor air quality, we had indoor recess the entire first week. Everyone - staff and students alike - was losing their minds, but there was still joy.) I was ready to roll this week. I'm excited to see where this year will take us.

This isn't meant to be a mental health PSA, but as a person who is by no means neurotypical, I'd be remiss not to mention that this is not even close to the horror-of-a-tweet and its aftermath by that proudly "toxically masculine" kickboxer and reality TV bozo. This is a teacher celebrating:

  • a really great first week of school
    • after a really tough year
    • that made her mental illnesses tougher for her and everyone she loves to bear
  • remembering that she is more than her diagnoses
  • joy

Will it get hard? Sure. Am I a complete and utter Pollyanna, skipping around here about happiness and rainbows and best year evers? Proudly. I deserve a wonderful, joyful year, and so do my students and colleagues. And you know who has the most control over providing that here at school?

Me.

I unabashedly love this song, just like my students.

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