Vienna Calling: May 2014

May My old friend. We meet again. We have a tumultuous relationship you and I. .. we have for the last six years, and I can see that our mutually awkward mix of loathing and adoration will continue in its confusing trend for the Foreseeable Future.

May. Otherwise known as the month that turns my normally sweet (ish) and well-behaved (ish) children into wild monkey children. You cruelly tease us with your endless sunshine while we wither away in our classrooms and you force us to take an almost shameful amount of breaks to go run around in circles and "read" outside.

You're the last long haul before summer vacation Just when everyone is starting to despair that the school year will never end, you pop up to present just enough time of academic value to necessitate lugging our children (who no longer fit in Their desks properly because they've grown approximately 2 feet taller since you blinked) through at least one more grand project, and through that inevitable final unit.

It's May that has every teacher panicking about how on earth they will finish the math book, and it's May that has us all coming home and collapsing on the floor in a pathetic pile of papers that we SWEAR we will grade before tomorrow.

Our bulletin board displays are sagging, our emergency craft supplies are all but depleted, and the little piles of "things we will get to organizing just as soon as we have a spare minute" have overrun the classroom...

And, as a teacher, just When you are about to bang your head against your keyboard a few dozen times...

That split second before you tear your hair out after realizing that Suzy still doesn't know the answer to the question that you have been patiently reviewing since September...

That moment right before you decide that you want summer vacation more than anything you've ever wanted before in your life...

You remember

You remember how much these children have changed your life for the better in a million small ways each and every day for the last nine months...and that they're leaving soon.

You remember that they will not recall all of the lessons you've taught, the geography of Asia will go out the door, and their math teacher next year may be completely confused regarding what concept they actually REMEMBER from 5th grade...but they'll carry memories about their friendships, the life lessons they learned, and hopefully...how much you loved them, forever.

You'll remember that you've been given this one chance, this calling, this opportunity to impact these lives. That their parents entrusted to you their greatest treasures for 7 hours a day. That you have been called to plant seeds, and agonize, and instruct, guide, correct, and pray over each one of these little lives.

You'll remember how much you love each and every one of them (yes even THAT one - and inevitably "that one" will be the one that you remember the longest and the fondest). That you want the best for them, and that your clock is winding down.

You'll remember that, like every year before....they'll walk away in a few weeks and move on from you and your lessons, just as you'll move on and start preparing your heart for a new batch of lives...but you'll pray for them still and hope that a little piece of them was changed by you. And that your stewardship was wise, and gracious, and guided by the Holy Spirit.

And you'll smile, and laugh, and still bang your head on your desk ... because that's what May is for a teacher. And it's one of the Reasons did we do what we do.