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I have a love/hate relationship with starting all over again. I love getting my hands on some new little thinkers. I love the opportunity to put the good, the bad, and the ugly behind me. I love another chance to improve at what I do. On the other hand, I hate (maybe dislike would be a better word) starting from scratch once again.
I arrive in August with a vision of my previous class still in my head from when I said goodbye in June. They knew all my classroom routines and procedures. They knew how to read with fluency and expression. They knew how to write like an almost second grader. They knew how to tackle difficult math problems. This new crew shows up and they're cute and all, but they don't match up with that vision whatsoever. We're back to square one. Oh, but this is when I remind myself that one of the reasons I teach first grade is because they grow from kindergarteners into second graders right before my eyes. It's like watching a miracle. It's just a tad painful at the beginning.
I might experience selective amnesia when it comes to September, but I'll definitely never forget what a miracle they are during the nine months we're together.