Notes

I wasn’t the only one leaving school hours after the dismissal bell, but I was probably the only one there not working on report cards. I stayed late to finish printing and laminating a project the kids had done. Today had been rushed, hectic and I spent every spare moment wrapping up student work and getting things ready to go home. I needed the time after school to finish and to write sub plans for tomorrow.

As I tidied up my room, I found myself stacking Post-It notes and pieces of notebook paper – all with tidbits on how to improve next year. My notes have notes. Some notes are basic logistics: use 3/4 inch combs on the portfolios, or make the reading station packets with fewer pages. Some notes are more complex, such as looking at improved ways of tracking the use of reading strategies during independent reading times. And Lord knows these scraps of paper and Post-Its aren’t the only notes I have. My phone is FULL of notes I’ve written in the middle of the night, or during a meeting, or even riding in the car that I want to remember to do or change about my classroom.

What struck me today as I put all these notes in a pile, was something I first started to notice about myself a couple months ago. Back in early March, I spent nearly an entire weekend at school putting together explicit and detailed sub plans. I wasn’t sure then if I would ever need to be suddenly out, or if I might have to leave mid-day to help with my husband, so I wanted to make my daily lesson plans something a substitute could easily navigate with little notice or support. Those days that I spent planning, felt not only cathartic but fulfilling. I enjoyed the process of laying out lessons and improving on instruction. I found bliss in the organization, the structure, the control, but in equal doses I loved being able to find new ways to infuse my lessons with engaging materials or more interactive instruction, or more variety in the practice or production of the standard. So even as I tidied up my room today, making a somewhat neater stack of all my notes, I found myself getting excited to start tackling these ideas. In short, I have begun to realize that I find tremendous joy in the process of thinking and planning for instruction – even more so at times than actually delivering the instruction.

This is not to say that I think this leads me out of the classroom and into writing for a publisher or some such. While I have kept my eye open for “next step” positions, I am quick to realize that those who plan instruction without delivering it, far often miss the mark. I know that in order to keep improving on how kids learn, I need to remain hands-on in delivering the lessons that I create or adapt or modify.

But as I look ahead to the summer months, it helps me explain, if not just to myself but to my beloved husband, why it is that after enjoying a complete break from school for a couple of weeks, by early July I am always working on something for the classroom. I’m always designing some materials, or reorganizing some unit of learning, or even creating or improving documents to use in the fall. I just can’t help myself. I enjoy that. So, while I feel this year coming to a close, I already have my eyes on next year. I am already thinking about ways to improve and things I want to do differently. I am already starting lists (upon lists, upon lists…) that I want to work on this summer.

And for me, that never feels like work. That is the part of my job that makes me feel energized and excited. I’m ready for summer, but not because it brings me a break from the classroom. I’m ready because for a little while, I have a significant amount of time to tweak and play and research and adapt and amend and create my lessons. And that is what will make me a better teacher in the fall.