As an alternative means of capturing my thoughts and reflections, I’ve been writing haiku about my teaching practice. This is the tenth post in the series.
As a teacher, I cherish every summer, but this one reached another level of appreciation. This one came on the heels of the most chaotic and unpredictable school year ever. A year I was thankful to survive, it left me hurting. By June, my wounds were throbbing. I was a fulfilled educator who had been hollowed out by remote learning. At the end of it all, I wasn’t even a teacher anymore. Like a fish out of water, I gasping for air until the very last day.
And so, I used this summer to simply breathe. To inhale deep and exhale slow, to breathe in ways that would help me heal. My breaths took many forms. Family getaways. Personal escapes. Great books. Reflective PDs. Lazy days at the park. Brisk laughter. Engrossed writing. Forgetting the day of the week.
The air has never felt as sweet or as full of life as it has this summer. The scars from last year will always be there, but I am restored.
It’s seems fitting that on my unofficial last day of summer, I write a haiku to pay tribute to the last two months of my life.
Summer of justice
Giving back what was taken
A teacher once more