Back to school

Lyla's in the Fives Room, where kids are five or almost five.  Rowan's in the Monkey Room, where kids enter wearing diapers and exit wearing underwear.

My first day of my 13th year of teaching.  Here are some honest truths about teaching and parenting:

1. I decided I truly loved my job in September of 2009, when I returned to school after spending six months at home with an infant Lyla.  That sounds horrible to say, but there it is.  Infants are hard, and teaching English is a different kind of hard, which felt easy. 

2. September of 2010, same feeling.  Fun summer, but challenging to navigate the mood swings of a one-year-old.  Teaching comma splice avoidance delighted me. 

3. September of 2011, teaching was the greatest career of all.  Rowan had been born the previous January, so with summer and my parenting leave, I spent 17 weeks wrangling two kids who were on completely different nap schedules.  To Kill a Mockingbird never felt so fascinating.

4. September of 2012, good to be back in school.  A summer spent unsuccessfully looking for a new house.  Kids still on different nap schedules.  Grading papers sounded relaxing.

5. Today, September of 2013, suddenly it's hard to go back.  Lyla and Rowan run and climb and talk.  They like each other, and they like me, often for several consecutive minutes.  They nap reliably and simultaneously.  I still don't have the temperament or skill to do full-time what the kids' daycare teachers do, but the onset of fall didn't present nearly as relieving a scenario this time around.  I met my 167 students today with a definite pit in my stomach; it'll dissipate once I get more into the swing of things, at least I hope it does.  It's so bizarre to think about, but with respect to my job, I was totally spoiled by living with shrieking, demanding infants.