When she sighed in dismay because she had received her welcome back to school letter from the principal, I asked Heidi to forward it to me so I could live vicariously. I was a bit deflated when the link to the agenda for the staff meeting didn’t work for me.
But soon, I realized that maybe, just maybe, not sitting in the theatre all day was a good thing.
Then, today, for some random reason, I checked my school access again. I suppose I wondered if the start of the new school year would bring further restrictions to what I could and couldn’t see of the virtual infrastructure of my old life.
Everything seemed as it had been all summer until I clicked on my grade book for the hell of it.
There, I was stunned to see six new classes. Curious, I clicked around, just as I would have if I were returning. My homeroom was 17 students, too many for that type of class, and I remembered how much I disagreed with the model our school had put in place for remediation.
The drop-down menu indicated two intensified classes, which had the smallest enrollment. A quick scan of the faces and names showed me groups that did not represent the school's demographics. The other classes were overloaded with English Language learners and kids with 504s and IEPs. Minimal checking also revealed many students with homerooms on other teams, which meant the middle school model was pretty loose.
I didn’t see any co-teachers or assistants listed, but it is still early in the scheduling process. (Obviously, because my name is still on the classes!) The room number had been changed to reflect that the new guy was getting an interior classroom, though.
“Woof,” I shook my head at the challenges facing the person who was actually going to teach those classes, and suddenly, retirement seemed like a pretty good idea after all.
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