Teacher Creature Unschooled

 Have you ever had a chance to be around the northeast for the transition from summer to fall? In some ways I feel this is the first time I've truly experienced it.  Turns out it's quite beautiful. For the entirety of my 14-year teaching career, the period from late August into early September (and if we're honest, usually well into October) was generally a blur. A new school year can be exciting and hopeful, yes, ( This time I know I'll get it right! This year I'll finally crack this nut! I'm rested and ready, I'll do it ALL!) But it's also a brain-erasing, frantic, exhausting whirlwind.  Without fail this time of year always flew right by me, obscured by a frenzied flurry of spreadsheets, emails, name tags, unit plans, classroom design and re-design, closet clean-outs, curriculum meetings.  By the time I came up for air the trees had lost most of their leaves and jack-o-lanterns were popping up on doorsteps and in vestibules. This year the season feels...

 I realized something after making and then immediately breaking a commitment to myself (and Aunt Jane) to get back to writing: The only times in my life when I have been able to write with any consistency are when I've written for an audience (that's you) on a blog (like this.) Looking back at some of the moments I chose to remember in writing, it makes me aware of the many other moments I have most definitely forgotten since then. Weird how so much of your life can evaporate like that. But neat that you can preserve some of your brainwaves by writing them down.  A lot has happened since the missives I sent from my couch on the 11th floor of my first apartment in Quito.   I found an awesome roommate and friend in Quito and moved into his apartment, where I spent more time laughing and talking and consuming passionfruit margaritas than writing about what I was doing with my time. Donald Trump completed a full term as president that was both more and less disastrous t...