First day back is a rough one for both teachers and students. I feel like I’m pushing them through mud. One of my kids looked at me–trying my damndest to put something like a smile on being up before the sun after three weeks of late days in PJ’s–and swore I was enjoying the torture I was inflicting on them, which made the Sisyphean struggle all the more arduous.
These days, I think, teachers are especially prone to question the value they put back into the world. On the first day back, the learning isn’t always that effective; everyone is shaking off the cobwebs. As such, I can’t help but admit that today’s lesson wasn’t the best planned, brining out the worst ‘glorified babysitter’ feelings. I have always felt like my purpose as a teacher is best realized in making personal connections with students. When that’s not happening, it can make the endeavor feel futile.
Luckily, our campus has a nice outdoor setting. And as I walked around in the brisk cold to drop off some papers to another student, I realized my day was almost over. And while this day wasn’t the best, tomorrow would probably be better. And even if it isn’t, there’s always the next day. Many philosophers claim that time simply repeats itself over and over and over. Sisyphus gets another go at the hill. I guess that’s one nice thing about it: however sluggish this day is, it’s only so long. And tomorrow’s another chance to light a fire.