That is the sigh of relief after the last graduate turned in their gown, picked up their diploma and walked out the door. The tassels have been turned, the morter boards were thrown...some even stuck on top of the roof, by the littlest girl in the class...and I drank my lovely margarita from Cha-chos. It was a rougher week than most last weeks. I felt as though it was my first time coordinating graduation, even though it's my third. I haven't quite pin-pointed the reason yet. It could be because the senior advisor from prior years is in Germany now, and so the realization of all she did hit. It could be because this class is almost equally split between highly academic and highly apathetic and the apathetic ones really pushed a lot of things to the last minute. It could be because I was in charge of coordinating four major events or activities in one week and was actually too relaxed going into the weeks prior to this one and so I paid dearly. I don't know.
Regardless, the Six Flags all-school activity was a blast for those that participated on Friday. Or so I've heard since I couldn't actually go due to Senior brunch set-up. Senior brunch was beautiful. Graduation was grande. I was honored to introduce our valedictorian and my little speech went off without a hitch.
I've finished my seventh year of teaching. I am now closer to ten years of teaching than my first year. That's odd. My colleague Sarah was just a bit older than me when I began teaching and I think back to how wise I thought she was. Am I viewed that way now? How would a first year teacher view me? It's interesting. I feel like a veteran in so many ways, especially in the art classroom. But those rookie moments still occur. Maybe that's good. Keeps me on my toes.