But...
Like the ancient mythical phoenix bird, I have chosen the end of this cycle. I have realized the wisdom in starting anew to maintain longevity. So that is what I will do: I will start anew. Because teaching is in my blood, it's purpose whispers to me in the recesses of my psyche and soul; it is my calling, not necessarily of my own choosing, but a calling to which I must nevertheless adhere.
I can't do it alone. I know that. Yet like the doctor who laments even one patient's death among hundreds or thousands saved, I can not rationalize that some of my students "just won't make it." I see resources going to waste, human and consumable, and I start a slow burn. A burn that has turned into an inferno of indignation at an educational "system" that allows children to reach grade 6 unable to read three simple words: "the. brown. bear." I am appalled at communities that turn out more attendance to a football game than a PTSA meeting. I am incited to riot that $8 dues they hesitate to pay, but spend $100's on sneaker shoes too small too soon... my fire is burning, y'all...
But my husband said that my anger is my saving grace, because someone has got to be angry. Someone has got to speak up LOUD AND CLEAR and say, no DECLARE, the injustices being done to our children in the so-called name of 'education'. So, while I can not save them all, I will remain on the battlefield, but I plan on moving my point of entry: elementary school. But until then, I must wage this last battle, this last trumpet's call as I close the door on (hopefully) my last year of middle school. Learn with me, cry with me, empathize/sympathize with me, but DON'T turn your back on me, the teacher; because to do so, is to turn your back on our kids who so need that home-school connection. Maybe something I say will set sparks that catch other sparks and fuse and form a radiating force of tangible fire that will spark an educational ReVoLuTiOn.! - or,
at best -
help me get some thangs off my chest...
