Compass

Today, I ran in my second 5K in 7 days.  It is kind of a big deal for a girl who still does not see herself as a runner and who just 365 days ago was not even thinking about attempting to be one.  I have been thinking about this other marathon that I have been "running" over the course of the last 8 months, one which I rerun yearly.  Tomorrow, the calendar says May. May is this bittersweet moment where my body and my head are beyond ready for the glory of summer - the late nights, no alarm clock, and bathroom breaks whenever my bladder desires.  But then there is my heart, it is really hard to pour it out over the last 8 months and know that in a month (or 19 days) that pieces of it will walk out of room 29 and things will always be different even if they are always mine.  This year, my heart is holding on a little bit harder.  

Just last week, I was in the middle of my end of year reading assessments.  It is the most glorious time of the year - a true testament to all the countless hours spent reading aloud to them during whole group, pulling little ones for small group, modeling connections, and everything in between.  As I was winding down my assessments, I had to pry a little one away from a book which I had read aloud to him the week before and promise him that if he laid it on the teacher table while he read, it would be waiting for him.  This is how our small group time went throughout the year - he never really wanted to leave all those other independent reading tasks to come see me, some days he did it without reminders but on most days, he required a promise or incentive of what he was leaving behind to come see me - he made me work for every minute that I have pulled him for small group time.  I pulled a book that was one level below the end of year desired benchmark and he read it with a couple of miscues but the most priceless moment was when he looked up at me at the end of reading it and said, "I just read that book".  I just have to believe that his story is a little bit different because of all of those minutes invested during small group time, whole group time, and so many behind the scenes moments that I could not even begin to described.  While I want to do a cartwheel for the progress this little has made this year, my heart is pondering what next year looks like for this little one (and all the other ones).  While the state continues to talk about numbers in references to budget shortfalls and the revenue crisis, my numbers are a bit different - I see faces of the little ones in room 29 or across the hall.  What if this little one is in a class with 25 or more students next year - those numbers drastically change his educational journey along with every little one he is sitting in the room with.  I worry about the little ones that are leaving with a piece of my heart at the end of the month.  

Oh, and I also worry about the ones that are going to be coming to room 29 in August - how will all these cuts impact their classroom instruction and learning?  It is the one thing that I do not know that the legislature and decision makers truly understand - even with just a few more little ones - everything changes - and suddenly while I have been dividing my love, attention, and conversations 19 ways, adding even only a few more, each child suddenly gets less.  All the little things that I enjoy about this time of year - mean just a little bit more this year - so as I finish up the year strong and reflect on the beauty of the little things that await during summer - I want to soak up the sunshine of the moments where the little ones have bloomed due to their independence, some structure and routine, and even the slightest little bit of me.  

"So let your heart, sweet heart be your compass when you're lost and you should follow it wherever it may go.  When it's all said and done, you can walk instead of run  cause no matter what you'll never be alone"