Congratulations on your first week of a brand new year!

Rooms have been readied, meetings have been held, desks are arranged, and pencils are sharpened. You have been pouring over curriculum – no matter how long you have been teaching – working to make your lessons relevant for the brand new landscape that prepares students for classroom work. You have been hunting on Pinterest, sourcing new articles, finding new perspectives to bring old material to life once again.

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You have fantasized about students and new classes, dynamics that have yet to be created but will be thoroughly enjoyed. You have talked at length with colleagues and have concocted in your head what will be the most fulfilling year of your teaching career.

I know these things because I have done them too.

And for the first time in a decade, I am not waiting outside my classroom door to usher in the possibility of the future. And it hurts.

So for me, promise that you will remember how beautiful these first days can be. The chaos, the seating charts, the rules and regulations that will quickly subside as true exploration takes place. You’ll be exhausted, your voice won’t work, and you’ll walk through the door in the evening ready to face-plant in your pillow.

You’ll have the students that you feel try every nerve in your being and will challenge the patience you thought you could never muster. And then you’ll realize that you didn’t draw the short stick, but rather you were lucky to have the child that needed a strong teacher to direct them down the right path.

You’ll have lessons that you spend a month designing, lessons that make you prouder than your first born ever could – yet the delivery fails and you hang your head in hands thinking of the hours wasted. But you will also have moments that spontaneously erupt in your classroom, moments that you can’t plan but simply watch transpire in awe.  Those are the moments that fuel your energy and passion for a career that is unpredictable and demanding.

People who don’t understand will scoff at your exhaustion, heckle your “summer vacation”, and remind you of your holiday breaks. They will never see the hours you sit with your papers and plans, nor can they comprehend hours of sleepless nights as you wrestle with your students’ well-being. They will never bear witness to the relationships you forge, the moments your students grasp a difficult concept, or the pride you feel when success is finally found with a reticent learner.

But those people and what they say are not important, as anyone who has spent even a day in the classroom will understand and lift you up as the hero you are. And when test scores and new programs threaten to take over the authenticity of your own creative teaching drive, remember that only the students who are lucky to be in your classroom will think back on your time together.  And as the old adage remains, they will forget what you said and what you did, but will never forget how you made them feel.

I am jealous of you and your new year, and I will watch your Facebook feeds fill with first week stories and excitement and long to be posting my own. But as much as I wish to walk that mile in your shoes, remember you have the biggest fan in me and I appreciate you more than you know.

Happy First Week!