Add to the mix running two marathons as well as one half-marathon,a 10K, and a 5K in a 33 day span and I find myself completely exhausted but incredibly happy. I absolutely love this time of year, and for once it doesn't completely have to do with running. I won't say that crossing the finish line of the Kentucky Derby Marathon wasn't super aswesome, because it was, particularly with my good friend Jamie Huneycutt there to greet me, but that has only been a small part of the last month. The Hogeye Marathon and the Bentonville Half Marathon were superb, too, as they always are. Running hasn't gone anywhere in my life, it's been around in big ways and that's not going to change, but the end of April and beginning of May always temporarily focuses my attention elsewhere. It becomes a time of reflection and growth, a time to simultaneously show gratitude for what has happened and to celebrate what's to come, a time to shoot for the moon and dream big dreams.
Friday was essentially the last day that i'll see all of my students in class. They take their AP Psychology exam tomorrow, and the following two weeks will be filled with AP's for their other classes. The seniors get to start summer break two weeks earlier than their underclassment counterparts, thus not having the responsibility of classes after May 9th. Maybe it's because i'm a softie, or maybe I get swept up in the emotion of it all, or maybe I see a little bit of myself in some of them, but for whatever reason i'll miss them all. I already do.
For most, the next step will be college at a state school not too far away, like the funky little campus drenched in all things Razorback. Or they might be Tigers, or Rebels, or Longhorns, or Mustangs. It doesn't really matter, they'll all have the new experiences that college affords: leaving home for the first time, bravely walking into the commons and not knowing a single soul, wearing flip-flops in the shower, pulling all nighters, miserably failing a class, finding unbridled passion in another. Some of them might be incredibly scared, not unlike I was 22 years ago. They might not know themselves yet, or might not want to know who they are. But with time they will, and those days will be seminal.
A few of them will choose paths that take them in different directions. They'll immediately begin to work, they might focus on a hobby and turn it into something more, some will travel, or they might start a family. Some will even choose to lose direction and deliberately check out for a while. All of these are great and will ultimately serve to shape their adult lives in ways both large and small. My hope for all of them is unwavering, regardless of where they choose to go: I want nothing more than for them to go forth and live their lives to the fullest extent possible, to be surrounded by love and to give love back in every way, to wake up each morning and know that the world is a good place filled with chances to shine. They don't realize it now, but each and every one of them is on the dawn of beautiful things to come, and I hope that I will have played a small role in that story.
Toward the end of every year, my students begrudgingly pose for a class photo that I can hang on the wall, forever leaving a mark on my humble classroom. With some frequency, I look at the pictures from previous years and smile at the faces I see, wondering where they are and what they've become. Some classes are more memorable than others, the class above has indelibly left a mark for sure, but there's not a single picture that I regret. I give each student a 4x6 copy to keep, hoping they'll hang on to it and remember their time in my class with fondness.
In a few short hours, I'll be holding a study session for the AP Psychology exam that's slated for tomorrow. I have to bribe them with nachos and soda to show up, but that ensures a healthy turnout for one final review of all things Sigmund Freud. There'll be just as much socializing as there will be studying, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Exam scores are important, but that's only half of what needs to happen in a classroom. That other part, the part that's unmearsureable with numbers but evident in interaction, can change the course of a student's life forever. I try to do both. I'll never forget the teachers that changed my life for the better, I've mentioned their names before: Marty Sewald, Wilda Chadick, Carole Maines, and a few more. Hopefully my name might spark that same passion in another person one day. I hope it does, not for a passing test score, but for a kind word and a smile.
Run.
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