my first year teaching...

Quote of the day today... I asked one of my students how his 5th grade year with a first year teacher went and he said: "Good and bad, good because we had a lot of fun and bad because sometimes you forgot things, like to take us to P.E."

I love the fact that, at our fifth grade talent show today, I got more excited about the mariachi dance than the Justin Bieber routine.

I love the fact they made menus for our end of the year party.

I love the fact they made tablecloths out of butcher paper and confetti out of construction paper.

I love the fact they set Capri Suns at each spot, ready and waiting for the festivities.

I love how they laughed at me when the chips I considered spicy turned out to be chips they considered mild.

I love how they cheered when I surprised them with pizza.

I love how a handful of my students are sentimental like me. "We started the year in this room, and we end the year in this room," she said. "Exactly," I replied, "it's like a circle." "Except you won't be our teacher next time around," she responded, more poignant than she knows.

I love how their mariachi music is on my itunes and how it plays when itunes is on random. And how I know the words.

I love how my students are used to my crying. Today I overheard one of them say, "Ms. Smith is crying again," almost matter of factly.

I hate how my favorite student was the one who had to leave first. And how I lost it.

I hate how my students ask me if I'll be there next year, and I honestly don't know.

I hate how I've spent so much time with these kids and now -all of the sudden- I don't get to see them everyday anymore.

I hate that the reason other teachers came by our end of the year party is because they "heard there are tamales." First time you've stepped foot in my classroom... last day of school... and now you want a homemade tamale made by one of my students' parents, with love, for our end of the year party? Nice.

I hate the fact that my kids still don't clean up after themselves.

I love the fact some of their parents offered to help me clean up without being asked.

I hate how just stopping to think about them makes me tear up. Or maybe I love that because it shows that they made an impact on me. I can only hope I've done the same for them.