We’ve made it to the homestretch (or, at the very least, it’s quite near). Most of us never imagined this type of ending to the school year. It feels so strange to say a virtual goodbye to our students and pack up our classrooms without colleagues to hug and cheers with. And let’s not discount feeling so uncertain about what the Fall/future holds.
One thing I am certain of, however, is this: I need to look away.
Look away from this screen, detach from the news, purge from the stress of this “new normal.” There is a ridiculous bounty of blessing around me, and I want to turn my eyes to it. I hope and pray that you have good things to turn your eyes toward, also.
In the weeks to come, I’m looking away from my screen and scanning the view from my back porch. Here I’ll find our families’ new yet faithful friends: Mr. Cardinal (and his girlfriend — yes, according to some in my home, birds have loved ones), the bunches of bunnies who’ve made homes (and children) in our yard, and the toads my children regularly take hostage. These joys are simple and treasured; they deserve my attention.
Regardless of what the Fall brings — a normal first-day-of-school with jitters and all, or a virtual greeting that will feel…uhm… odd — we need to enter it with clear minds. And I think that requires a moment or two or ten of looking away.
This summer, as always, we have loads of work to do. But, I hope — for a least a while — that you feel released from your screens. So that when you return, under any and all circumstances, you’re ready to capture the hearts of your students, pour into the good work of teaching, and tackle any challenge that comes your way.
Wishing you peace, joy, and health,
Lindsay