The Eleventh Honeymoon
11 years ago, I promised myself I would inspire, kick butt, and teach kids to the best of their abilities. Ten years ago, I eschewed all that and said I would be much stricter with them because they needed it. Nine years ago, I wanted to take pieces of my first two years and double down on my firm resolve. Eight years ago, I wanted to test my mettle with a brand new set of students who would eventually push me to ponder a whole new career. Every year, my energies oscillate from elation to downright neurosis. I’ve reread Harry and Rosemary Wong’s First Days of School, visited classrooms throughout the summer months, and revamped entire curricula so I could be a better teacher for my students.
In my eleventh year, I told myself to quit all that and make Mr. Vilson as close to Jose as professionally possible.
I still come into school 30-45 minutes early, reading material in hand. I still get my cup of coffee in the corner store. But I’ve changed my approach. I’m better at saying “good morning” to fellow faculty before that first sip. I’m better at picking up around myself around the classroom. I’m better at letting some of my frustrations go.
I still put on music during my morning session. I’m better at leaving the song on while the students walk into class, especially if it’s John Coltrane.
The students trickle in with the usual zeal, or lack thereof. Some meander around the lockers, The Eleventh Honeymoon | The Jose Vilson: