you may not know it now...

i stopped and stared at the gray walls as more color, life, and hot glue was stripped away.

“you’re gunna miss this. you’re gunna want this back...”

it seemed like just yesterday i was frantically trying to beat the clock on turn this sterile prison cell into an inviting and engaging kindergarten days. and there i was, standing full circle, deconstructing what remains after what seemed to be the longest, fastest year of my life. this past week has been so crazy that i have just wanted it to end; yet the amount of work to be done by Friday seems so insurmountable, that I’d rather time slow to a crawl so i can get every square inch accounted for.

“... you’re gunna wish these days hadn’t gone by so fast...”

the song on pandora caught my attention as i frantically ran across my classroom, doing 40 things at once; finding things in far corners of the room and cataloging my to-do’s in far corners of my brain. but i paused and listened to the lyrics, a gentle reminder that even in this chaos, i should not wish the days away. this is my first year, this was my first year. that is something i will never have again. in the past week i’ve chalked up to disaster, i have failed to stop and look around and breathe. instead, my mantra has been “swim as fast as you can and pray you don’t drown.” but God didn’t create this moment for me to blast past it. i will never again know what it feels to be in the midst of the end of my first year. sure, i will end frustrating and difficult years in the future. i will be so swamped i don’t know if i’m coming or going. but i will never experience it with such an innocence and naivety of my first go-round. everyone calls your first year of teaching a “survival year,” but i wish i would’ve thought sooner to make it more of a “surveyor year,” in which i make it more of a practice to sit back, and breath in the sights and sounds and smells and germy germs of kindergarten.

“these are some good times; so take a good look around. you may not know it now. but you’re gunna miss this.”

as the song progressed, i stood in the doorway holding back tears. i am going to miss this. i am going to want this back. this year has flown, and i hadn’t had a chance to catch up to it or grab ahold. i’m going to wish it didn’t fly so fast; that in 10 years, that i would still be in my first novice years of teaching. that i had this young heart and vibrant passion. i stood and looked at the mess strewn about and agreed. i’m gunna miss this. so i closed my eyes and breathed in deep. i want to remember this feeling of overwhelming anxiety. i want to feel the pressure mount as the time quickly ticks, ticks away. i spent just a minute taking it in, etching a snapshot in my brain that so paralleled and coupled my wonder-working weekend in august; and then i exhaled, and got back to work. afterall, its the end of the year, and there’s too much to be done to just stand around lamenting.