Tomorrow is my last day teaching at Timothy Ministry.
For those who may not know what that even is – it’s the homeschool co-op our family has belonged to for the last 14 years. I’ve been a teacher there the entire time of many different subjects and age groups. While I was teaching, our kiddos were able to take classes from other homeschool moms and *gasp* get a little socialization while they were at it. 😉
When I first started, I taught a little boys’ class that was the counterpart to the girls’ class: Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice. Only my class was called Snips and Snails (and Puppy Dog Tails). It later evolved into a class called Stepping Stones, in which I taught these little first and second graders things like self-discipline, how to shake hands properly, how to greet others and introduce themselves. We went hiking, learned to tie knots and make paper airplanes. At the end of the fall semester, I hosted a formal Thanksgiving Dinner for them, at which they could practice their newly-learned table manners.
The look of confusion when they sit down to three forks is just priceless.
Our middle son was in this class and still talks about it; the oldest was in 6th grade, and the youngest was still in the nursery.
I can’t even.
For the last many years, I’ve taught a high school worldview class, and a couple of years ago, one of the tiny, chocolate-eyed, soft-spoken little boys from Stepping Stones waltzed right in to my high school class with the nerve to be a Junior.
I knew I had probably been there too long.
As a teacher, you know you’ve been at this thing a long time when the students you used to teach now have a job teaching there. That’s almost how this felt to me.
After the boys’ classes, I went on to teach a high school writing class (which I loved, although it was extremely taxing with the amount of grading), and a history class for 5th and 6th grades that has been a BLAST to teach. Eventually, I dropped the high school writing and began teaching a set of 5th and 6th grade writing classes that I had the privilege to create. I had taken the class from another excellent writing teacher, so I certainly had something to go on, but over time, it completely took on a life of its own. Basically, I was able to modify each semester to the students I had, and witnessing some of those kids overcome mental blocks about writing while under my watch was something to behold.
Talk about satisfying.
So for the last I-don’t-even-know-how-many years, I’ve been able to share academic writing and North American history to 5th-6th graders, elementary economics (which I also got to create) to 3rd-5th graders, and a Biblical worldview class called The Truth Project (that is very close to my heart) to high schoolers.
It’s been a good run. A very good run.
But I’ve been looking forward to closing this chapter all year. Last year, I handed the baton of my writing classes and economics classes to other capable teachers. But I really wanted to keep the worldview class, and since I didn’t want to drive all the way to Timothy for just one class, I kept my history class too. It’s been a bit weird teaching a couple of classes this year because I don’t have any of my own kids there with me; they’ve all graduated.
So in that sense, I suppose it’s been a good transition for me. Rather than dropping everything cold-turkey, I have gradually been letting go: one graduation at a time, and then handing off my classes in chunks while still teaching. And that’s allowed me to process each piece as I go.
Now I have a part-time job (that I looooove) and the prospect of having two whole days a week all to myself at home is a heavenly one. Once these classes are over, I get to enjoy that reality.
The thing is, all this week, every time I think about this Tuesday (tomorrow) being the very last time I’ll ever teach at Timothy, I get this weird lump in my throat and my eyes tear up.
So why am I so emotional all the sudden? I mean, just in the last few days? I think it was on Friday, Clint and I were at the table, and I had a very sudden observation and spoke it out loud: this Tuesday is the last time I’ll ever teach at Timothy!
And I couldn’t stop the water works.
When our boys graduated, all three of them, I was SHOCKED that I didn’t cry at any of the ceremonies. Not. One. I mean, the emotions were running high leading up to actual graduation, but at the actual ceremonies? I was happy as a lark.
What gives? So I came here to try to figure it out.
My first thought is that this isn’t just about Timothy Ministry. As much as I’ve enjoyed teaching, and as much as I have loved watching kids I grow to love grow up all around me, I just don’t think that’s what my heart is really mourning.
When I first decided to homeschool, we were still living in Texas, and we had one almost four-year-old when the second boy was born. I’ll never forget my parents coming over one night and sharing with my dad my plans to homeschool his grandsons. My dad was a regimented “play by the rules” kind of guy, so it absolutely floored me when he asked if he could see the curricula I was going to use and had nothing but positive support for my decision.
After moving to Georgia a couple of years later, I had the sweetest, Hallmark-movie-quality memory sequence you’ve ever seen. So many precious memories schooling these kiddos.
The oldest used to practice cursive writing in 1st grade with his foot on top of mine, almost holding me at the table with him. (It was a short table). The first time he read a whole section of a book to me without me having to help him was elation like I’d never felt before! I knew I had affected his life for the REST of his life. Bar none.
Watching our middle conquer math and science throughout his grade-school years like it was an extended Leisure Course blew my mind. The kid used to draw happy faces with his answers on algebra problems that consumed an entire page!
The youngest one has always been something of an anomaly. He always loved learning, and even enjoyed all our activities in school. Except maybe the time we were testing different areas of his tongue with food substances to see where he tastes bitter, sweet, sour, etc., and he excitedly tried cocoa powder by itself on a q-tip. You’ve never seen a boy so disillusioned and betrayed! But he never really got into the book learning. Most boys don’t, to be honest. Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were his absolute favorite literature books, if that tells you anything!
Dissecting owl pellets, creating a travel journal for a time-travelling middle schooler (complete with coffee cup stains), elementary botany lessons on a picnic blanket followed by a nature hunt, curling up in front of the fireplace to have my second grader read books to me on a snowy day – memories I will treasure forever.
All those years, I would glance forward into the future when they would all graduate and move on – not need me to teach them anymore because they would be fully capable of learning on their own. Back then, this view of the future brought more dread for me than anything; I just didn’t want it to ever end. But that was just me being selfish because I loved what I got to do with them so much.
What I didn’t realize at the time, though, is it was preparing me. That dread was preparing me, helping me to process early on, the end of our homeschool days together. That was something I never saw before until now.
Last week at Timothy, I ran into a student from a couple of years ago and her mom in the hallway. We talked for a while so I could ask Brooklyn how her year has been and what she’s been up to. Mom mentioned something about growing up and time moving too quickly, and I looked at Brooklyn and said, “Graduation will be here before you know it!” To which her mom’s chest fell, she sighed deeply, and I knew all too well how that thought made her feel. So I told her, “I know that dread. I know how that just made you feel. But trust me, when the time comes, it’s easier and more fulfilling than you can imagine right now.” She smiled and said she hoped so.
I think interactions like that are what also prepared me for years. So when it came time to close out THEIR chapters, it was welcome; it was time.
But I don’t think I’ve been emotionally preparing for my chapter to close. And I think that’s why tomorrow (which is now today) has hit me so hard. It’s not that I’m not ready to leave; it’s that I haven’t spent years preparing for this moment at all. In fact, it really just hit me last Friday.
Walking through the halls is going to be different today. Seeing old students, visualizing them as adults, seeing old friends in the admin and faculty (although most are already moved on – I can hardly recognize our staff these days), will feel peculiar today.
I’ll be thinking about the notes, homemade cards, and sweet little teacher gifts I’ve received (I wonder how many Starbucks cards I’ve gotten over the years); some are still a part of my decor in the house.
There are a select few cards that were written that are so meaningful and touching that I believe they will find them among my things when I’ve gone from this world.
I don’t know that anyone will care to read all this; it was really just for me. But I’m still going to post it – just in case there’s a mom out there who finds this and needs to hear what I think I’ve discovered: take the time to process, welcome the feeling of dread that comes when you think about your child (all of them) being grown and flying the nest. It’s beautiful, it’s natural, and it’s not as terrible as you think it will be if you process it over time.
Read: don’t run from it. Let it be.
In fact, I can honestly say now (in hindsight) that my relationship with our kids now is a thousand times deeper than it was when I was in charge of their daily lives. Now, I get to watch them manage themselves and my job is just to love and respect them as the wonderful adults they are.
And they are so. dang. fun. to be around.
I can’t fathom a better reward for my efforts.
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