Five Days

I'm not quite ready to do my final reflection on these crazy two years I've spent teaching. I do, after all, have five more days to go (and with six and seven year olds, you never know what can happen in five days). But I am beginning to fill up with a big sense of guilt and regret about leaving. My plans for next year were put in the staff bulletin for the week and I got an e-mail shortly after from the teaching assistant who has worked in my room for the past two years.

She's seen some of the craziest moments of my teaching career, from my horrible first day (after which she told me she was surprised I came back) to the day when two kids peed their pants and one threw up within a span of 30 seconds. She was there when one of my kids threw a bin of books across the room in rage, when my autistic student ran out of the room and down the hallway. She's amazing.

Her e-mail was short, but it really hit me hard.

Miss Fiorillo, Congratulations on your new venture! I was really surprised. I thought you were a born teacher, but I know you will be successful in whatever you do. I have thoroughly enjoyed working with you the past two years. Please be sure to stay in touch!


I'm not putting that on here to try to show everyone what a fabulous teacher I was (and am, for five more days). In fact, I don't really know why I'm blogging about it. It's just another piece in the puzzle of trying to make sense of the work I've done these two years, trying to come to terms with all the challenges I've faced and the challenges my kids face. It makes it incredibly hard to leave knowing how powerful your impact can be as a teacher, but I'm still doing it. For what? Maybe I'll figure that out in my final reflection. Until then, I'm letting it sink in.