Week in Review

This past week was interesting.

Sunday my son was standing on a chair in the garage swearing at the top of his lungs. He called me, “Michelle,” which is a bad sign and then when I asked about his meds, he got angry. I ended up spending the night at my cousin’s house.

Monday, I called Shayne’s doctor and found out that he’d missed his April appointment and had been unmedicated for at least a few weeks. I told him that he needed to get back on his meds or find a new place to live. He went to the doctor all by himself and got a dose of meds and a new prescription. Surprised the hell out of me.

Tuesday, I invented “a novel in a day” and my students and I read Frindle. I had my end of the year review and realized that a large majority of my students had more than expected growth in math and reading. That made me realize that all my tears and work had amounted to something. After my school day, I drove over to the library to pick up the art show pieces. The sky was all hazy from the fires in Canada. From the walkway bridge at the library, I could see the valley Pueblo sits in, with the river and spring trees and the stacks of the steel mill. It was kind of beautiful in a gritty way. And I had this strange feeling of home.

Wednesday, my students had their graduation ceremony and all but one of my students showed up to the ceremony. This is an achievement because attendance has been a struggle all year. But they showed up. They brought their families and stood with me to get their awards. I took picture after picture with my kids and talked to all the family members and had an enormous sense of pride and love for all of them.

Thursday, I got a call that my car was considered a total loss. I started tearing down my room because I am not teaching fifth grade next year. Someone else is already planning on moving in to the space. I took down my Banksy poster and Jarmiah asked if he could have it. I told him only if he was going to hang it up and truly treasure it, because Banksy is my favorite artist and it is my favorite poster. He hung his milk carton key chain on my key ring. A trade from the tough boy who has been to date the most unforgettable student I have ever had.

Friday, I got up early and walked down to my old elementary to help with field day. I got hugged by at least 100 kids. One of them said, “I am not a hugger, but it’s you.” The kids have grown so much, but I realized that I have moved on. I am not their art teacher anymore. I am no longer part of that community. And I am not sad about it.

People keep asking me what I am doing next year. Will I go back to art? Come back to teach in Canon? Stay at Park View and teach kindergarten? I don’t really know the answers to any of those questions. People keep giving me all kinds of advice, and I am trying very much to listen to what my heart is telling me. But my heart is very much like the shy kid in the back of the room who speaks in whispers when forced to say anything at all. I have to completely shut everything else out to hear it.

The car accident really messed up my thinking. I don’t love being on the road all week. I don’t think leaving Shayne alone for so long is the best. I am not sure what the solution is, but maybe things don’t happen to us, maybe they happen for us. We just have to be brave enough to accept the gifts even when the packages aren’t beautiful.

So I am concentrating on the gifts I have been given lately. I think my heart is telling me to stay at Park View and teach kindergarten. Paint my llama mural and maybe some other things on the barren blank walls of the school yard. Keep writing my blog. Inspire hope in places where it hasn’t been before. Make a difference. Maybe do Destination Imagination again with these kids who don’t even know how magical creativity can be. I don’t know where crashing my car and my son fit in all of this, but I know the answers are there. I just have to be open to listening for them.

Saturday. Tomorrow. All the possibilities.