The Marathon Begins

This morning I put my keys in the ignition when the first wave of sadness hit me. I just knew at the same time 24 hours earlier my cousin put the keys in the ignition to go to work and it was one of the last things he did. When the morning was peaceful and quiet, I thought of him.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I took a deep breath. As soon as I got out of the car, the day would be nonstop.

At seven fifteen, I was supposed to have the first parent teacher conference. I was supposed to meet with the parent who demanded a new teacher when she saw how young I am. She didn't show. I tried to pick up the debris left all over my classroom when I left early to go to the hospital on Friday. At seven forty-five, the kids shot into the room like out of a cannon. The parent who didn't show up sent a note requesting a reschedule for Wednesday. I took another deep breath as this was her third reschedule and sent after the scheduled meeting.

The day was both slow and fast. I thought the reading lesson with these kids would never end, but somehow it doesn't seem that long ago, now, when the sun is setting, that I put my keys in the ignition.

This week I have an additional 11.5 hours of parent/teacher conferences. That is twenty-three half hour meetings. I also have to teach all week. The kids all have spring fever.

If I make it til Friday, I'll turn twenty-six. The last four years have been the slowest and fastest of my life. Now, though, when it is quiet again for a little (very little) while, I feel another wave of sadness; but also a wave of gratitude. Every day is a gift.