I was posting on instagram about our homeschool day. In that post I wrote that 21 years ago I was starting my first teaching job.
21 years.
It feels like a lifetime ago, and at the same time, I can close my eyes and be right back in that room. I can see the faces of my co-workers and students. I can remember the placement of the desks and the layout of the lab.
I was 22. A short 10 years before that year I was a 6th grader myself. I was mistaken for a student more than once.
I taught at that school for 3 years. During that time I worked with some amazing people and I worked with some really terrible people. I wrote curriculum. I parted ways with my first long-term boyfriend. I drank more than I should have. I dated guys I shouldn’t have. My last year there left me a parting gift of three ulcers and a slew of mental health issues that would plague me most of graduate school.
21 years after that year I am teaching 6th graders again. This time they are my 6th graders and our school looks a bit different. It is our 8th year of homeschool. I don’t just teach science anymore.
Today was the start of our third week of 6th grade. We are sliding back into routine easily. Emory is already wishing to hear less of my voice and I am working hard to set the routine so they can work more independently. A couple more weeks and I think we will be there.
21 years from now I will be 64 and the boys will be staring down 33. Our homeschool years will be long behind us. I might even have a daughter-in-law or two and, if I am lucky, a grandchild or two.
21 years ago I never could have dreamed I would be homeschooling my own 6th graders.
But here I am.
I wouldn’t change a thing.