"I have learned that if you need to leave a place that you have lived in,
and loved and all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it in any way
except a slow way. Leave it the fastest way you can."
- Beryl Markham
This is my most favorite time of the school year. While I have always been giddy at the thought of beginning a school year and while it has always been a confirmation that I am in the exact profession I was intended to be in, the end of the year, especially in High School, is the most beautiful. I teach Seniors and while I work with all levels in our school, the Seniors are so special to me. I finally have them in class, I get to spend time with them doing community service, and I get to watch them mature over the years through retreat. But there is one retreat that is most dear to me and that is our Junior Training Retreat.
Tonight would have been the second night of our JTR. But alas, we are not there. As a result of missing one of my most favorite places, I spent some time reflecting on the goodnesses I have received this year as a result of JTR 2019. One year ago, the current senior retreat team was experiencing the love of retreat for the first time. What makes it so incredibly beautiful is that they each consciously put so much effort into wanting to be there. Because of this, they are more open, more willing, more vulnerable. I don't find myself waiting for "that moment" when it all clicks because for these students, they get it the moment they walk off the bus. And of course, I get to share a place where I was once a retreatant and then a leader and now the Campus Minister. It is a place that is so special.
These girls become the Campus Ministry team and thus, I get to work closely with them over their senior year. We pray often together, we explore new music together, and we share the state of our hearts many times over. They are the ones that fill the office with joy, laughter and tears. They are the ones that love deep and strong. When I see them in the hallway, I know they are spreading love with every step they take. When I see them with their peers, I know they are a level above in spirit and grace (oftentimes, above adults, as well). They are special and so incredibly unique. They share magic wherever they go. It would be during this time that I would be getting ready to plan a few senior events with them - Baccalaureate Mass, Graduation Practices, Senior Recognition, Senior Luncheon, and so one. I would be praying with them before their AP tests. I would be taking my classes for walks on nice days and having instruction outside. And we would be preparing for and executing the final retreat of the year, where we would initiate the Juniors into their roles as Senior Retreat Leaders.
I am missing them and being in school so much right now. It has been such a blessing to be home with my family, but as my husband said, "You are still losing time with others as you gain time with us." I have spent every waking hour with my family; that is the family that shares my last name. But students become like family. They become your children in a way. And sometimes they treat you the same.
I recently looked up at the calendar on my fridge to check the date when I realized that I hadn't changed it. It still had planned events from March. That's when we left school and thus, that's when time seemed to freeze. If I had known on March 12th, that I was never going to have my office filled with those special girls, I would have hugged each one a little tighter. I would have reminded them that they are so incredibly worthy, beautiful and loved. I would have smiled a little longer. I would have given them one last little word of wisdom. But I didn't know and neither did they. It seems so unfair in so many ways. I cannot describe the feeling other than I feel a certain kind of emptiness without my students around. I know many other teachers feel this way. Our everyday life, our life breath, was suddenly ripped from our grasp before we had any idea of what was happening. We left the places where we have lived, loved and buried our yesteryears, in a flash. And for some, ripping off the bandaid was just that; a small amount of pain and adjustment to new life. But for many, it has left a sting and an a wound and a pain. It hurts. For us and for them.
Despite this, however, these students remind me of home - that is school. Home is not a place but the people that make it feel like home. Through their emails, there little Remind texts and their cards. They remind me that home can be felt even when we are not together. And they remind me that I am doing that for them. Home is this beautiful place we are trying so hard to maintain in this place. But we are doing it together.
Tonight would have been the second night of our JTR. But alas, we are not there. As a result of missing one of my most favorite places, I spent some time reflecting on the goodnesses I have received this year as a result of JTR 2019. One year ago, the current senior retreat team was experiencing the love of retreat for the first time. What makes it so incredibly beautiful is that they each consciously put so much effort into wanting to be there. Because of this, they are more open, more willing, more vulnerable. I don't find myself waiting for "that moment" when it all clicks because for these students, they get it the moment they walk off the bus. And of course, I get to share a place where I was once a retreatant and then a leader and now the Campus Minister. It is a place that is so special.
These girls become the Campus Ministry team and thus, I get to work closely with them over their senior year. We pray often together, we explore new music together, and we share the state of our hearts many times over. They are the ones that fill the office with joy, laughter and tears. They are the ones that love deep and strong. When I see them in the hallway, I know they are spreading love with every step they take. When I see them with their peers, I know they are a level above in spirit and grace (oftentimes, above adults, as well). They are special and so incredibly unique. They share magic wherever they go. It would be during this time that I would be getting ready to plan a few senior events with them - Baccalaureate Mass, Graduation Practices, Senior Recognition, Senior Luncheon, and so one. I would be praying with them before their AP tests. I would be taking my classes for walks on nice days and having instruction outside. And we would be preparing for and executing the final retreat of the year, where we would initiate the Juniors into their roles as Senior Retreat Leaders.
I am missing them and being in school so much right now. It has been such a blessing to be home with my family, but as my husband said, "You are still losing time with others as you gain time with us." I have spent every waking hour with my family; that is the family that shares my last name. But students become like family. They become your children in a way. And sometimes they treat you the same.
I recently looked up at the calendar on my fridge to check the date when I realized that I hadn't changed it. It still had planned events from March. That's when we left school and thus, that's when time seemed to freeze. If I had known on March 12th, that I was never going to have my office filled with those special girls, I would have hugged each one a little tighter. I would have reminded them that they are so incredibly worthy, beautiful and loved. I would have smiled a little longer. I would have given them one last little word of wisdom. But I didn't know and neither did they. It seems so unfair in so many ways. I cannot describe the feeling other than I feel a certain kind of emptiness without my students around. I know many other teachers feel this way. Our everyday life, our life breath, was suddenly ripped from our grasp before we had any idea of what was happening. We left the places where we have lived, loved and buried our yesteryears, in a flash. And for some, ripping off the bandaid was just that; a small amount of pain and adjustment to new life. But for many, it has left a sting and an a wound and a pain. It hurts. For us and for them.
Despite this, however, these students remind me of home - that is school. Home is not a place but the people that make it feel like home. Through their emails, there little Remind texts and their cards. They remind me that home can be felt even when we are not together. And they remind me that I am doing that for them. Home is this beautiful place we are trying so hard to maintain in this place. But we are doing it together.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLit-C4Gl8g
